All At Once
by er-maniac-26
Summary: Stuck in a downward spiral, will Mark and Elizabeth be able to salvage their marriage and the livelihood of their family? Immediately follows "Storm Clouds".


All At Once   
  
By: Jenn (ERManiac26)  
  
DISCLAIMER: ER, the characters, and the situations depicted within are the property of Warner Bros. Television, Amblin Entertainment, Constant c Productions, NBC, etc. They are borrowed without permission, but without the intent of infringement. The story presented here is written solely for entertainment purposes, and the author is not making a profit.  
  
Feedback is welcome. Please send all questions, comments or criticisms to er_maniac_26@yahoo.com  
  
SUMMARY: Stuck in a downward spiral, will Mark and Elizabeth be able to salvage their marriage and the livelihood of their family?  
  
RATING: PG-13   
  
BACKGROUND: This story begins in October of 2005. Mark and Elizabeth still work at County and are raising their four-year-old daughter, Ella, and their ten-month-old son, Matthew. Rachel is seventeen and has been living with them since the previous November. The last episode that applies to this series is "A Simple Twist of Fate".  
  
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: I would like to take this time to thank Lori (SixteenOzs02) for all of her help with this fic; for reading the scenes as I sent them and providing me with really great ideas and excellent feedback. You're the best!  
  
The summer months seemed to fly as Rachel prepared for her senior year of high school and fought to reclaim her position as captain of the soccer team, and as Ella prepared for her first year of preschool. They spent all the time they could allow with Rachel, helping her recuperate. Days at the pool, evenings walking in the park, and nights lifting weights in the garage. In the later days of October, as the leaves started to fall from the trees and the weather turned cooler, things seemed to be settling down in the Greene household.   
  
Walking into the house around 3:30 one afternoon, Elizabeth called, "Mark, you home?" Not hearing a response, she ascended the stairs toward the master bedroom where she changed into a pair of jeans and a bulky gray turtleneck sweater.   
  
Glancing into the study to see if Mark could possibly be there, she heard her daughter's laughter coming through the window that had been left slightly ajar. Crossing the room, she gazed out the window to see Mark raking leaves into a huge pile, with Ella holding a tiny rake in order to help her daddy; both bundled tightly in coats and hats. Matthew appeared to be happy sitting on a large quilt in the middle of the yard playing with an array of toys that were strewn from one side of the blanket to the other.   
  
As Elizabeth watched, a smile graced her face as Ella threw a handful of leaves in Mark's direction, obviously tired of raking and more interested in making a mess of the neat piles he had made. "Hey, you!" Mark called, throwing a liberal amount of leaves toward the little girl.   
  
"Daddy!" She exclaimed, as she ran from him.   
  
Elizabeth chuckled softly. Deciding to join her family outside, she descended the stairs and grabbed her coat from the rack standing next to the front door. Entering the kitchen, she walked to the cabinets in order to find the ingredients necessary to make hot cocoa to offer them outside.  
  
Carrying a large mug for Mark and a smaller one for Ella, she crossed the yard toward them. When Mark saw her, he smiled. "Hey," he called.  
  
"Hey," she replied, handing him the mug of steaming liquid. "I thought you might like this."  
  
"Definitely," he responded, dropping the rake to the ground, and wrapping his free hand around her shoulder.  
  
Elizabeth glanced around the yard. "Where's Ella," she asked. "I know I just saw her out here a minute ago."  
  
Mark didn't say anything at first, only pointing conspiratorially toward the huge pile of leaves. Elizabeth followed his hand, and chuckled softly when she saw the top of Ella's multi-colored toboggan sticking out of the heap of leaves. "I have no idea where she is," Mark finally stated.  
  
"Hmm," Elizabeth played along. "I thought she was just here, and I brought her some hot cocoa, too. I guess I'll just have to drink it myself."  
  
"Ella," Mark called a moment later.   
  
"Ella," Elizabeth followed his lead. They both smiled when they heard giggling coming from the leaves. Elizabeth then approached Matthew who sat on the quilt. "Hi, baby," she said as she knelt down beside him. "Have you seen your sister?"  
  
Ella's laughter could be heard again as Mark threw another handful of leaves onto the top of the pile. After kissing Matthew briefly on the nose and assuring that the hat was secure on his tiny head, Elizabeth stood and approached Mark. "I wonder where she is," she said, holding her finger to her cheek while handing the small mug of cocoa to him.   
  
Ella laughed again, and this time, Elizabeth couldn't resist. Pouncing on the pile, she grabbed the little girl and began tickling her. "Mommy!" Ella giggled. "That. . .that. . .tickles."  
  
"Were you hiding from me?" Elizabeth asked jokingly as she pulled Ella to sit on her lap.   
  
"Uh-huh," Ella giggled. "But you found me."   
  
"Are you and daddy having fun?" Elizabeth asked with a smile.  
  
"Yeah," Ella replied. "Will you play with us now?" She asked.  
  
"Of course I will," Elizabeth said, as she picked up a handful of leaves and dropped them onto Ella's head.   
  
"Hey!" Ella called before throwing a handful of leaves at her mother.   
  
Mark placed both mugs of cocoa onto the ground and decided to join in on the fun. Picking up a huge heap of leaves, he threw them at his wife and daughter. Elizabeth and Ella both laughed as Mark joined them in the heap.   
  
Playing tag team, Elizabeth and Ella decided to tickle Mark, but their fun soon came to an end when they heard the shrill sound of a pager going off. They halted, all three knowing what that offensive sound meant. Hesitantly pulling the beeper from her jacket pocket, Elizabeth's face fell. "It's the hospital, and it's 911." She sighed. "I guess I have to go call."  
  
"The cordless phone is on the blanket with Matthew if you want to use it," Mark said as he sat up. "I brought it out in case someone tried to call while we were raking leaves."  
  
Moving to sit on the blanket with her son, she pulled him onto her lap as she dialed the number. "This is Corday. You paged me?"  
  
Mark and Ella both watched as Elizabeth took the call. "Mommy's going to leave isn't she?" The little girl asked, hanging her head slightly.  
  
"I don't know sweetie. We'll just have to see," Mark replied, but he knew from Elizabeth's face and the tone of her voice that the prospects of her being able to stay home were slim to none.  
  
"I realize that, Robert, but I just got home. You don't need me for that procedure. . ." Elizabeth argued.   
  
"Who's Robert, daddy?" Ella asked. "Do I know him?"  
  
"Yeah, sweetie. It's Dr. Romano, remember? He's mommy's boss," Mark explained.  
  
"I think I remember. Is he the one who's little like me?" Ella asked innocently.  
  
Mark couldn't help but laugh. "Yeah, he's kind of small, I guess," Mark replied. "But don't ever tell him that, ok?"  
  
"Ok, daddy," Ella agreed.  
  
"Fine, Robert!" Elizabeth spat. "I'm coming!"  
  
Turning off the phone, she tossed it onto the blanket as she stood, carrying Matthew with her. "Robert needs me in surgery. I'm sorry," she said as Mark stood to face her.  
  
"Hey, it's ok," he replied. "We're about finished here anyway. I'll take these two in and get them something to eat before Rachel's soccer game."  
  
"Oh, that's right. Her last one. Damn!" Elizabeth hissed, obviously exasperated by the situation at hand.  
  
"Don't worry about it," Mark said as he took Matthew from her. "I'll just tell her what happened. It's not your fault."  
  
Smiling slightly, she bent down to where Ella remained in the leaves. "I'm sorry, sweetie. Dr. Romano needs me at the hospital."  
  
A sad expression marked her face as she looked up at her mother. "Does he need you to help him with surgery. . .to make someone feel better?" Ella asked.  
  
"Yeah, he does, sweetie," Elizabeth explained with a nod. "But daddy's going to take you to Rachel's soccer game, and I'll be back as soon as I can, okay?"  
  
"When will that be?" Ella asked.   
  
Elizabeth sighed, unsure of the answer. "I don't know, Elle, but if it's going to be very late, I'll call before it's time for you to go to bed. Okay?"  
  
"Ok, mommy," Ella finally agreed.   
  
Bending down, Elizabeth hugged her daughter and kissed her lightly. "I love you, sweetheart," she replied.  
  
"Love you, too, mommy," Ella answered as Elizabeth stood and turned to Mark.  
  
"Goodbye, sweetie pie," Elizabeth cooed as she kissed Matthew.   
  
Turning toward Mark, she took his face in her hands and kissed him gently on the lips. "I love you," she said softly before turning from him and walking toward the house.  
  
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
At 11:30pm, Elizabeth entered the dark and peaceful house. Quietly making her way to the top of the stairs, she sighed as she entered Ella's bedroom. Straightening the covers around her sleeping form, Elizabeth kissed her forehead gently before retreating back into the hallway. Gently opening her bedroom door, she wasn't completely surprised to see Mark sitting up in bed, waiting for her. "Hey," he said, looking up from the letter he was reading.  
  
"Hi," Elizabeth replied as she sat her bag down on the floor near the door. "How was your evening?"  
  
"Not bad," Mark started. "Rachel scored the winning goal at her soccer game and Matthew decided to make his soccer debut," Mark said teasingly.  
  
Smiling as she changed into a pair of pajama pants and one of Mark's t-shirts, she chuckled, asking, "What did he do?"  
  
"Just tried to crawl onto the soccer field in the middle of the game, that's all," Mark replied.  
  
"Mark!" Elizabeth scolded, turning sharply toward him. "Is he all right? Did he get hurt?"  
  
"He's fine, Elizabeth," Mark assured her with a smile. "The teams were all the way at the other end of the field, and he barely crossed the side line, anyway. It wasn't a big deal, but all the mothers think he is wonderful."  
  
Elizabeth smiled as she climbed under the sheets and comforter of their bed, and after kissing Mark briefly, she said, "Well, we already knew that, Mark." Mark wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer to him before returning his attention to the letter he held in his hand. "What's that?" Elizabeth asked, looking down at the piece of paper.  
  
"A letter from Ella's preschool. Her teacher says we need to schedule a parent/teacher conference," Mark replied, handing her the letter. "I thought you might want to see it."  
  
"Was it in her book bag after school today?" Elizabeth asked  
  
"Yeah, I found in after you left. How was Romano by the way?"  
  
"The usual," she sighed. Quickly returning back to the letter he held in his hand, so took it from him. "Does it say why we need to meet with her teacher?" Elizabeth asked before reading the letter.  
  
"No, I called this afternoon and scheduled the appointment. We are supposed to meet with Ms. Jacobs tomorrow at 4:15. We both work seven to three, so we should be able to make it," Mark explained. Noticing Elizabeth's worried expression, he said, "I'm sure it's just a mandatory thing. Probably nothing to worry about."  
  
"I hope not, Mark. I don't think Ella would act out in class, but you know how she gets sometimes," Elizabeth said knowingly.  
  
"She's a good kid, Elizabeth, we both know that. I doubt she's done anything wrong. Let's not worry about it right now. We'll just see what her teacher has to say tomorrow, and then take it from there," Mark remarked. "For now, though, you look exhausted. Let's get some sleep."  
  
"Ok," Elizabeth agreed quietly. Scooting down into the bed, she settled herself next to him as he removed his glasses and placed them on the nightstand next to him. As he turned out the bed side lamp, she said, "I love you, Mark."  
  
Kissing her temple, he said, "Me too, Elizabeth. Goodnight."  
  
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
At 4:15pm the following day, Mark and Elizabeth stood at one of the bulletin boards in their daughter's small classroom, admiring the picture Ella had drawn of 'her family'. "Look at my hair. I hope it doesn't really look like that," Elizabeth laughed.  
  
Mark returned her smile, but at that moment, they both turned from Ella's artwork as they heard the door open to revel a young woman who entered the classroom.   
  
Sitting behind her desk without even so much as greeting Mark and Elizabeth, the teacher said, "All right, if you don't mind, I need to get home soon, so we should get started."   
  
Mark and Elizabeth just looked at each other questioningly. This type of attitude definitely was not what they were expecting from their daughter's preschool teacher. "I'm Stacey Jacobs, Ella's teacher. Please have a seat."  
  
"Mark Greene," Mark responded, hesitantly reaching his hand toward the teacher to greet her with a handshake, before taking his seat.  
  
"Elizabeth Corday," Elizabeth replied as she did the same.  
  
"Oh, I assumed that you were married," Ms. Jacobs replied curtly.  
  
Mark and Elizabeth were both taken aback by her abrupt comment. "We are," Elizabeth finally answered after exchanging a brief glance with Mark. "I just decided not to change my name since we're both doctors at the same hospital."  
  
"Oh, you're a doctor?" Ms. Jacobs questioned Elizabeth. "Do you work full time?"  
  
"Yes," Elizabeth replied flatly. "Is that a problem?"  
  
Ms. Jacobs just looked down at that pad of paper in front of her to make some sort of notation.  
  
"Excuse me, is there something wrong with me working?" Elizabeth asked again, her tone rising.  
  
"No, but it could just be the cause of Ella's problem," Ms. Jacobs said sarcastically, once again making a notation on the pad of paper she held in her hand.  
  
"Hold on, wait a minute," Mark interrupted harshly. "What problem?"  
  
"You didn't know?" Ms. Jacobs asked.  
  
"Didn't know what?" Mark insisted.  
  
"Well, considering the fact that you both are doctors, I would have assumed that you had diagnosed this yourself," the teacher replied indignantly.  
  
When neither Mark nor Elizabeth responded, Ms. Jacobs sighed, "Ella is dyslexic."  
  
"What?" Elizabeth asked immediately.  
  
"Dyslexic," Ms. Jacobs repeated. "It's when. . ."  
  
"Yes, I know what it is," Elizabeth interrupted. "But how do you know that for sure?"  
  
"Well, recently in class, I've assigned matching and sequencing activities with letters. Almost always, Ella confuses them, generally arranging them backwards," Ms. Jacobs explained.  
  
Elizabeth and Mark looked at each other, temporarily jolted Ms. Jacobs' declaration. "Well, is this just your guess or has she been formally tested?" Elizabeth asked, trying to understand. "She has never shown any signs of this at home."  
  
Noticing that Elizabeth was obviously struggling with this news, Mark reached over and placed his hand on her arm. "That's right," he insisted. "She's only four, but she can write her name and even read some books."  
  
"I understand that, Dr. Greene, but has Ella genuinely not shown these signs, or have you just not taken the time to notice them?" Ms. Jacobs asked sarcastically.  
  
'Who does this woman think she is?' Elizabeth thought to herself. "I'm not sure I understand exactly what you are insinuating," Elizabeth huffed.  
  
Calming her tone a bit, Ms. Jacobs began to speak. "All I am saying is that children need a lot of time, and since you both work as doctors, I'm sure the time you have to give to her is limited," she said. "Do you spend time with Ella reading and doing other educational things?"  
  
"Since she was born," Mark answered with a rueful laugh. "She loves to be read to and to read what she can. She can write her name and spell some simple words," he explained. "That doesn't seem like signs of a dyslexic child to me."  
  
"Dr. Greene, I won't disagree with you that Ella is an extremely intelligent little girl. Sometimes, though, that can be the problem. Because of their intelligence, some children are able to mask the deficits of their disability," Ms. Jacobs said as she opened a folder lying on her desk. "We received Ella's test results yesterday, and they confirm my suspicion of dyslexia. These disabled children are often able to compensate though, if the appropriate measures are taken."  
  
"I really wish you would stop referring to my daughter as disabled," Elizabeth stated flatly, glaring at the teacher.  
  
Mark looked at Elizabeth sympathetically. The word 'disabled' definitely packed a punch when referring to their own child. "Why weren't we contacted before now? How long have you had these suspicions?" Mark asked after a moment.  
  
"Well, since the beginning of school in August I guess, but I wanted to receive the results back before calling you in," Ms. Jacobs began.  
  
Mark just nodded his head. Looking toward Elizabeth who sat quietly taking in this information as well as trying to figure out the need for this teacher's audacity, he asked, "Have you dealt with this condition much?"  
  
"I've dealt with a few cases recently, but every instance is different. There are different causes, all with diverse severities. No one knows for sure what causes this learning disability. Some studies show that lack of stimulation and attention when they are young causes this in children, and some think it's inherited. But others, on the other hand, feel that it's caused by an insult to the baby during their early development," Ms. Jacobs explained. Accusingly looking at Elizabeth, she said, "One theory being studied is drug and alcohol abuse by the mother during pregnancy."  
  
Looking up and meeting Ms. Jacobs' gaze, Elizabeth defiantly glared at her. Throwing all rational thought out the window, Elizabeth spat, "I do not appreciate that accusation one bit, Ms. Jacobs. I would never intentionally place my child in that kind of situation. I'm not stupid." Elizabeth stood to leave the room, saying, "Thank you for your time, we can handle this from here."  
  
"Elizabeth," Mark called as she abruptly stood from her seat, but she did not stop to regard him, quickly rushing out the door. Once Mark met her in the hallway, he said, "Elizabeth, we need to find out everything we can about this, not run away from it."  
  
"I'm not running away, Mark," Elizabeth started. "I refuse to be blamed for this and scolded because I choose to work. That woman is ridiculous, and I think Ella needs to attend another preschool. We should probably have her tested again, too. How do we know that that woman even knows what the hell she's talking about?"  
  
"Yes, Elizabeth, I admit that she was a bit rude. . ."  
  
"A bit, Mark? She accused me of. . ." Elizabeth trailed off, not wanting to speak those appalling words. "You heard what she said!" Elizabeth retorted as she started down the hall searching for the principal's office. "You know me better than anyone, and you know that I wouldn't NEVER purposely hurt one of our children. It's ridiculous."  
  
"Elizabeth, hold on," Mark said as he rushed after her.  
  
"No, Mark. I'm going to find the principal. I refuse to sit and listen to that woman refer to Ella as 'disabled' any longer," Elizabeth said fervently as she continued down the hall.  
  
Dejectedly walking beside her, Mark finally admitted, "You're right, Elizabeth. She was very impolite and unprofessional, but blowing up at her isn't going to solve anything. We need to get to the bottom of this. It can't be ignored. We're going to have to do all that we can to help our daughter."  
  
"Of course, Mark," Elizabeth said after she had calmed a bit. "And if it's true, we can handle it on our own. I'm sure there are help guides for parents of children with dyslexia. We'll teach Ella ourselves if we have to."  
  
Mark regarded her warily, but decided not to say anything. He knew she wasn't thinking rationally and didn't really realize how much time it would take to become Ella's full time teacher. Deciding that right now would not be the best time to argue the issue with his wife, Mark walked beside her toward the door bearing the words, Mrs. Crawford: Principal.  
  
Knocking on the door, Elizabeth waited anxiously for someone to answer the door. "We should probably make an appointment, Elizabeth. We can't just go barging in there," Mark replied.  
  
Elizabeth started to speak, but the door quickly opened to reveal a kind looking middle aged woman. "Hello, may I help you?"  
  
"Uhh, yes," Elizabeth replied. "I'm Elizabeth Corday, and this is my husband Mark Greene. We were just wondering if we could have a moment of your time to talk to you about our daughter, Ella."  
  
"Oh, Ella. What a charming little girl. Of course. Come inside and have a seat," Mrs. Crawford said.  
  
Relieved by the contrast of this woman's attitude from Ms. Jacobs', Elizabeth and Mark both smiled at the sincerity Mrs. Crawford had just greeted them with. Hoping they would be able to get to the bottom of things with this woman's help, Elizabeth said, "Thank you."  
  
After taking a seat behind her desk, Mrs. Crawford asked, "So, what can I do for you today?"  
  
"Well," Mark began, "We've just received some disheartening news from Ella's teacher."  
  
"Stacey Jacobs?" The principal asked.  
  
"Yes," Elizabeth answered. "We just spoke with her moments ago."  
  
"I knew she was running a battery of IQ tests with Ella last week," Mrs. Crawford replied. Regarding the looks on Mark and Elizabeth's faces, she hesitantly added, "I take it the results weren't favorable."  
  
"No, not exactly," Elizabeth stated. "Ms. Jacobs insolently explained to us that Ella has. . .dyslexia," Elizabeth replied before asking, "Is she always like that?"  
  
Mrs. Crawford hesitantly regarded Elizabeth, and momentarily ignoring her question, stated, "I know it may not seem so right now, but I've worked with several dyslexic children and many of them prove to be extremely intelligent. Since we've detected this in Ella at such an early age, we should be able to work with her in order to teach her compensatory strategies for her learning process."  
  
"We realize that," Mark replied, looking from Elizabeth toward Mrs. Crawford. "We were just curious about this diagnosis, because Ella has never shown any signs of dyslexia when we work with her at home. I know I may not be completely objective because she's my daughter, but I've always considered her to be a very gifted child."  
  
"I've observed her in the classroom, myself, so I can appreciate what you're saying. Generally that's the problem with intelligent children. They are able to mask their disabilities extremely well," Mrs. Crawford explained.  
  
Elizabeth sighed. There was that word again. She hated to think of Ella as disabled because she knew the capabilities her daughter held. "So, are these tests fairly definitive?" Elizabeth asked, sighing once again.  
  
"Yes, generally. We have a highly trained teaching staff here, though. I'm positive that they will be able to assist Ella with her problems in order to allow her to thrive and excel with the rest of her classmates," Mrs. Crawford explained.  
  
"I'm not so sure of that," Elizabeth hastily stated under her breath.  
  
Looking at Mrs. Crawford's puzzled expression, Mark tried to explain. "We didn't exactly have the best meeting with Ms. Jacobs."  
  
Mrs. Crawford stood from her desk and moved to shut the door. Standing beside her desk, she addressed Mark and Elizabeth. "I'm not one to talk about people, and I definitely don't have the right to pass judgment, but I think. . .well, I think it might be necessary for you to understand a little about Ms. Jacobs."  
  
Mark and Elizabeth glanced at each other before regarding Mrs. Crawford curiously. "Well, we don't want to breach any type of confidentiality. . ." Mark started.  
  
"No, this affects your child, so you have the right to know," Mrs. Crawford interrupted. Pausing to collect her thoughts before speaking, she said, "Ms. Jacobs has had a tough year to say the least."  
  
'Haven't we all,' Elizabeth thought to herself, reflecting on the events they had been through the past year.  
  
"Stacey has worked in this school system for the past six years, but about a year and a half ago, while she was expecting her first child, she decided to resign from her position here, wanting to stay at home and be a full-time mom," Mrs. Crawford started. Sighing before she continued, she then said, "Well, about six months ago, when the baby was ten months old, she was driving home, lost control of the car, and crashed into an embankment." Looking down, she remorsefully said, "The baby didn't make it."  
  
Mark and Elizabeth looked at each other, sharing penitent glances. That news hit close to home, not only because Rachel had just been the victim of a car accident, but also because Matthew was now about the same age as that child. Looking up at Mrs. Crawford, Elizabeth replied, "Oh, my. I didn't realize."  
  
"Naturally, the entire incident changed her. Her personality, her demeanor, her life. Before this, she was a favorite among the staff, the parents, and of course the students. Recently, though, her behavior has become detached and sometimes callous toward her colleagues and the parents of her students," Mrs. Crawford explained.  
  
"What about the students?" Elizabeth asked. "Does she project this behavior onto them?"  
  
"Actually, no. She is unerringly kind and patient with her students, often taking it to the furthest extent by over-compensating at times to ensure that they are well taken care of," Mrs. Crawford stated as she moved from her position at the side of her desk to sit back down.  
  
"She definitely did seem worried about Ella's well-being," Mark replied. "But she didn't really go about that the right way."  
  
"What do you mean, Dr. Greene?" Mrs. Crawford asked. Mark exchanged a glance with Elizabeth wondering if they should even bring up her behavior after the news they had just received. In a way, they both could understand her behavior. They didn't condone it, but they did understand it. "Did Stacey say something to you?"  
  
Elizabeth observed Mark a while longer before looking toward Mrs. Crawford saying, "Well, she was just very unprofessional. I don't want to be a tattle tale. . ."  
  
"No, go ahead. She has been warned about her behavior in the past, and I have to make sure that the proper actions are taken," Mrs. Crawford interrupted.  
  
"Well, she. . . in a round about way, accused me of using drugs and alcohol during my pregnancy with Ella," Elizabeth continued.  
  
Mrs. Crawford shook her head as she regarded Elizabeth. "I'm so sorry, Dr. Corday," Mrs. Crawford apologized. "I will definitely have a talk with her about that. I wouldn't normally suggest something of this nature due to the ill affects it may have on the students, but would you like to move Ella into another classroom? I can make arrangements if you feel it is necessary."  
  
Elizabeth glanced in Mark's direction. As much as she wanted Ella away from that woman, Elizabeth realized that she was projecting too much of her own opinion onto the situation without a thought toward her daughter's well-being. Ella seemed to adore school, her friends, and Ms. Jacobs.   
  
Relenting, she replied, "No. . .that won't be necessary. Ella enjoys the classroom she is in now, and I don't want to cause any unnecessary confusion in her life."   
  
Mrs. Crawford nodded. "Very well, I'll be sure to schedule a meeting with Ms. Jacobs to discuss her behavior here today. In the mean time, though, is there anything else I can do for you, or for Ella?" Mrs. Crawford asked.  
  
"Actually, yes. We were wondering if there are some sort of self-help booklets or anything to assist us in helping Ella with her schoolwork. I think I've seen books concerning dyslexia in some bookstores," Mark replied.  
  
"Yes, there are, and we actually have a collection of them in our library," Mrs. Crawford said as she stood and walked toward her door.  
  
Mark and Elizabeth both stood and followed her down the hall. "Thank you so much, Mrs. Crawford," Elizabeth said kindly, shaking the woman's hand.  
  
Smiling at her, Mrs. Crawford said, "It's not a problem. Here, follow me. "I'll show you the way."  
  
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Later that evening as Mark prepared dinner, Elizabeth sat in their bedroom talking to her father in London. "But, daddy. . .yes, I understand, but can't we. . .are you sure that is absolutely necessary?" Elizabeth asked her father as she spoke to him on the telephone. "Is there someone there with her now? Yes, they have been good friends. . .maybe you can get someone else to come into her house."  
  
Walking toward their bedroom to let her know that dinner was about ready, Mark heard his wife's obviously dismayed voice. Entering the room, he saw her seated on the bed Indian style and walked toward her to sit on the edge of the bed. "Well maybe she could come here and stay. . .Yes I know I have Ella and Matthew, but a nursing home, daddy? Really." Realizing that Elizabeth was discussing the condition of her mother with Charles, Mark smiled at her sympathetically. Elizabeth did not return his smile, but instead continued her conversation. "Please, daddy, don't do anything yet. Just give it a little more time. Ok, yes, of course. I love you, too. Goodbye."  
  
Turning off the telephone, Elizabeth threw it down on the bed with a strident sigh. Hesitantly deciding to speak, Mark asked, "Does your father think it's going to be necessary to put her in a nursing home?"  
  
Elizabeth sighed again. "Lillian and some of mother's other friends have been taking turns staying with her during the days, but apparently, somehow she managed to get the keys of her car one afternoon and became lost in the parking lot of the market, telling people she was "looking for her husband". Mother and daddy have been divorced since I was nine, Mark. There's no reason she should have been looking for him. I guess the police who were called to assist her filed a report with the DMV resulting in her license being revoked. She's been having frequent hallucinations, and daddy said that she doesn't even. . .she doesn't even remember who I am."  
  
Moving closer to her, Mark compassionately asked, "I didn't realize it would get so bad. . .so soon?"  
  
Clenching her jaw, Elizabeth closed her eyes and leaned her head against the headboard. "And you think I did?" She hissed. "This is progressing so much faster than I ever imagined."  
  
Mark regarded her warily. Reaching for her hand, she pulled away before he could speak. Exiting the bed, she picked up the telephone again. "What are you doing, Elizabeth?" He asked.  
  
"I'm calling mother. I need to check on her. I need to make sure she's all right. I don't want her thrown into a nursing home, Mark. I'll bring her here to live with us if I have to," Elizabeth said hastily.  
  
Standing with her, Mark replied, "What if she doesn't want to come? She's a gown woman, Elizabeth, and no matter how unaware of things she is right now and no matter how upset you are, you can't demand your mother do anything."  
  
Holding the telephone to her ear, she ignored him as she listened to the ringing on the phone. "Hello, mother," she said when a voice answered on the other end. "How are you feeling?"  
  
"Who is this?" Isabelle questioned.  
  
"It's Elizabeth, mother," she stated. "I haven't had the chance to talk to you in a couple weeks, so I was just calling to see how things are."  
  
"I'm fine," Isabelle assured her.  
  
"That's wonderful to hear," Elizabeth stated, though she knew Isabelle truly didn't realize her own state of health. Pausing momentarily, she then said, "I was also wondering if you would like to come stay with Mark and me in Chicago for a while. Ella misses you, and you've only seen Matthew twice. You could spend Christmas with us again."  
  
"I am perfectly fine living here with my husband," Isabelle replied. "Who did you say this was again? Matthew and Ella?"  
  
Elizabeth's heart sank. Her mother truly did not remember who she was, nor did she remember her only two grandchildren whom she had enthusiastically shown off to her friends in London only four months earlier. "It's Elizabeth, mother. You're daughter."  
  
"I'm sorry, dear, you must be mistaken. My husband and I don't have any children." Isabelle stated matter-of-factly.  
  
"How is Charles?" Elizabeth asked, not knowing how else to respond.  
  
"Wonderful. I'm a little worried about him today, though. He's just been sitting here in his chair all day long."  
  
Elizabeth knew her father wasn't really there. She had spoken to him not ten minutes ago from his flat across town. "Are you sure he's there with you? You and he have been divorced for almost thirty-five years," Elizabeth stated, trying to get through to her mother.  
  
"Oh no. You must be mistaken. Charles is right here with me. He never leaves," with that, the phone went dead.  
  
Stunned by the conversation, Elizabeth threw the telephone across the room and onto the bed, shouting, "Damn it!"  
  
Moving closer to her, Mark tried to embrace her, hoping to comfort her in some way. "We'll figure something out," he replied gently.   
  
Elizabeth struggled to fight her way out of his tender embrace, hitting his chest with her fists in an attempt to force him away, but soon she became overwhelmed by emotion as tears began to stream down her face. He held her tighter as he felt her body collapse within his grip as the tears consumed her. "It's ok. It's ok," he tried to sooth.  
  
"No, Mark. No! It's not ok," Elizabeth retorted as she quickly pulled away from him, trying desperately to hide the fact that this was breaking her heart. "Up until four months ago, my mother was an intelligent and vibrant woman. Now, she's nothing but a. . ." Elizabeth stopped. What was Isabelle now? Was she disabled, just like Ella? "She doesn't remember me, Mark. She has no idea who Ella and Matthew are."  
  
"It's hard, Elizabeth, I know."  
  
"No, Mark, you don't know," she yelled thoughtlessly. "You have no idea what this is like!" Shaking her head, she continued, "You couldn't possibly understand because you don't have a mother who doesn't know you. Who doesn't remember her own grandchildren," Elizabeth stopped suddenly, realizing what she had just said.  
  
Mark looked at her disbelievingly, the pain evident in his eyes. Shaking his head, he regarded her sadly.  
  
Elizabeth stood staring at him, shocked by her own words. She had no idea what was happening to her or why she was taking all of this out on him. He was her rock, her strength, and she had just wounded him with a few simple words. Moving to close the distance between them, she hung her head. "Mark, I'm sorry. I. . .please. . ." she finally said.  
  
"I'm just trying to help you, Elizabeth," he interrupted. "Why can't you see that?" Elizabeth looked up and regarded his down turned head as he backed away from her and sat on the edge of their bed. "I just feel responsible to help her, Mark," she said as she sat beside him, somewhat calmer. "I can't just throw her into a nursing home for whatever time is left of her life. It's not right."  
  
"I didn't say that she should just be thrown into a nursing home, Elizabeth," Mark said looking up at her. "We talked about this while we were in London. We could find a really nice place here. A retirement community with a specialty care Alzheimer's Unit. A place where we can go to see her as often as we like. To help her as often as possible," he paused, considering his words. "I know you feel responsible, but you can't do it on your own, Elizabeth. It's a tremendous amount of work."  
  
Elizabeth pondered his comment. She detested the thought that she was a doctor, a trained professional, who could help others, but who could not provide optimal care for a family member. Not just any family member. Her own mother. The woman who had given her life. The woman who had just recently become one of her best friends. "She's my mother, Mark. What am I supposed to do? Just go visit her and sit around and watch her die?"  
  
Mark took her hands as he observed her troubled face. "No, Elizabeth. Of course not. Do you really think you could care for her on your own, though? Come on, be honest with yourself. We're hardly ever here and when we are, we're running all over the place with Ella and Matthew. Not to mention Rachel and everything she needs help with. We couldn't leave Isabelle here when we're gone, it would be too dangerous," he stated. "If we found her a place to stay, though, there would at least be someone there all the time, just in case she needed something. I know you feel very strongly about this, and I admire that, but it's tough to care for an ailing parent on your own."  
  
"You did it, Mark," Elizabeth stated, flatly.  
  
"Yes, I did, but it was hard. Harder than I ever thought it would be. Not to mention the fact that when I was taking care of my father, I wasn't married, or trying to manage a household with three children, two of which are under the age of five. I don't want you to have to go through this alone. I was stubborn and wouldn't accept anyone's help; not even yours, and I almost lost you in the process," he admitted.  
  
Elizabeth closed her eyes and sighed. "Everything is just happening so suddenly, and all at the same time. Mother is deteriorating, Ella is. . . I just don't even feel like I have control over my own life anymore," she stated. Pausing for a moment, she smiled slightly at him before saying, "And you didn't almost lose me, Mark. I'm tougher than that."  
  
Mark smiled back at her as he leaned closer and kissed her forehead. "I know," he admitted. "And we're going to get through this. Together," he emphasized.   
  
"I know, Mark. I know. This is just so much, so soon. And I'm tired, Mark. I really am."  
  
He regarded her knowingly for a moment before he reached out and took her into his arms. Speaking into her ear as he held her, he said, "You're the strongest person I know, Elizabeth. But please remember that I'm here for you."  
  
"You keep me alive, Mark," Elizabeth responded simply. "I'll never be able to forget that."  
  
Mark watched her a moment and then pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Come on," he said. "Dinner's ready."  
  
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
As they all sat at the dining room table, eating dinner, Mark, Ella, and Rachel talked, while Elizabeth sat quietly feeding Matthew from a jar of baby food, her own plate untouched. Elizabeth had been extremely withdrawn all evening. The conversations with both her father and mother had thrown her off balance, and of course, Mark was becoming more than a little worried by her silent distance.  
  
"Rachel," Mark started. "Could you look after Ella and Matthew for a while tomorrow evening? My shift starts at six, but Elizabeth will be home a little after seven."  
  
"Sure dad," Rachel said. "I'm going to see a movie with Brianna and some other friends tomorrow at nine, but I can watch them until then."  
  
Elizabeth, who had been silent for most of dinner, hastily interjected, "No! That's ok. I uhh. . .decided to take half the day off tomorrow."  
  
Hearing her mother's words, and knowing what usually happened when Elizabeth took the afternoon off, Ella smiled widely and asked, "Does that mean we can go to the park after school?"  
  
"Oh," Mark said, ignoring Ella's comment and concentrating solely on Elizabeth. "I didn't know you were going to do that."  
  
"Yeah, well, I'm sure Rachel has something else she'd rather be doing tomorrow. I wouldn't want her to give up her Friday evening," Elizabeth commented, looking from Mark to Rachel.  
  
"I really don't mind, Elizabeth," Rachel explained. "Soccer is over now, so we don't have practice. It's not a big deal."  
  
"You shouldn't have to leave work early when Rachel is available to look after them," Mark said, an inquiring look on his face.  
  
"Really, Elizabeth," Rachel insisted. "I don't have any plans until later tomorrow evening."  
  
"I said I was taking tomorrow afternoon off, Rachel," Elizabeth snapped, her voice rising. "So, just leave it at that."  
  
Mark and Rachel both regarded Elizabeth warily, shocked by her tone of voice. She and Rachel had been getting on so well lately, and neither Mark nor Rachel knew for sure what had caused this sudden outburst.  
  
"Can we go to the park tomorrow, mommy?" Ella asked once again, unaware of the silence and tension that now hung densely over the room.  
  
Elizabeth bit her bottom lip as her eyes scanned the faces of the people seated around the table. Standing quickly, she lifted Matthew from his high chair and inaudibly said, "Excuse me," before she hastily crossed the room and walked through the door.  
  
As he heard Elizabeth ascend the stairs, Mark looked up toward an indeterminable spot on the ceiling and blew out a long breath. After a moment, Rachel asked, "What did I do?" Mark just regretfully shook his head. He was sure that Elizabeth's aloofness was caused by the news they had received earlier about Ella, compounded with the phone call from her father, but he couldn't quite determine the reason behind her attitude toward Rachel.  
  
"Can we go to the park tomorrow, daddy?" Ella asked.  
  
Mark smiled at her tenderly and said, "If it isn't raining when you get home from school, we'll go to the park before I have to leave for work, ok?"  
  
"Yes, daddy," Ella replied happily before scooping a liberal amount of mashed potatoes onto her spoon and then into her mouth.  
  
The remainder of dinner was spent in considerable silence before Mark asked, "Rach, you wanna go for a walk this evening?"  
  
"Sure dad, just let me go change my clothes," Rachel replied.  
  
"Ok, go get ready while I clean up the kitchen," Mark said.  
  
After he had tidied the kitchen and assured that Ella was safe with Rachel in her bedroom, he ascended the stairs, in search of Elizabeth and their ten-month-old son. Hearing her unmistakable British accent coming from the nursery, he tentatively peaked his head around the corner. There he saw Elizabeth seated on the floor with Matthew playing under his PlaySkool Kick Start Gym, Elizabeth smiling and tickling his toes as he giggled energetically.  
  
"Elizabeth?" He called softly.  
  
As she looked up to meet his gaze, the smile that had been on her face as she played with Matthew quickly faded, and he could see that she was obviously upset. "Umm, Rachel and I are going for a walk. Want to join us?"  
  
Elizabeth looked back at Matthew before answering, "No, Mark, that's ok. I should just stay here with Matthew and Ella. And it's getting awfully cold out."  
  
"We can bundle them up and take them in the stroller, Elizabeth," Mark urged. "We've been doing it for months."  
  
Elizabeth looked up into his eyes once again. "Mark, I'm sorry," she started after pausing momentarily. "I just don't feel like doing anything tonight. I'm worried about mother and Ella and. . ."  
  
"What, Elizabeth? What is it?" Mark asked as he crossed the room and pulled the rocking chair toward her. Sitting down he took her hands in his and said, "Tell me."  
  
Elizabeth hung her head, hiding her eyes from him. She didn't want to admit to him that a part of her blamed Rachel for this. It had been so long, and she had forgiven her years ago, but she couldn't get rid of the nagging thoughts that were plaguing her mind. Rachel, the Ecstasy, the overdose. Had that caused Ella's dyslexia? Finally looking up at him, she gave him her best smile and patting his hand, she lied, "It's nothing, Mark. Go with Rachel. I'll just get Ella and Matthew bathed and ready for bed."  
  
"You sure?" Mark asked.  
  
"Yes," she nodded.  
  
"Ok," Mark said. "We shouldn't be long," Mark finished as he leaned down and kissed his wife on the forehead. Elizabeth just smiled and watched as he then reached down and gently shook one of Matthew's tiny feet.  
  
Standing, Mark made his way to the door, but before he could exit, Elizabeth stood and called, "Mark?"  
  
"Yeah?" He answered, turning back toward her.  
  
She hesitated momentarily, wondering if she should tell him the truth like her conscience was screaming for her to do. Deciding that right now would not be the best time, she simply said, "Love you."  
  
Mark smiled and said, "Me too," before he left the room.  
  
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
As Mark and Rachel walked past the park that was close to their house, Mark asked, "How you doing with your college applications, Rach?"  
  
"Good. So far, I've applied to UC and Northwestern, but I don't know," Rachel replied hesitantly.  
  
"And you're positive that you want to stay here in Chicago?" Mark asked.  
  
"Yeah, I think so. I've had such a good time here over the past year. I really would hate to leave," she replied, smiling at her father.  
  
"I would hate for you to leave, too, Rach. It's been nice having you around," Mark said, teasingly. "Just let me know if you need any help with anything, though. Filling out the forms or whatever. I know the application fees can get pretty expensive," Mark commented.  
  
"Yeah," Rachel responded. "Mom said she would send me any money that I would need for that, but Elizabeth helped me with one of the applications the other day while you were at work. She insisted on writing the check." Mark nodded, not completely surprised. Rachel was silent momentarily before speaking again, "Dad, is Elizabeth all right?" She asked.  
  
Mark was silent as he motioned for Rachel to have a seat on a bench that was along the trail in the park. "Rachel, today we found out that Ella is dyslexic," he replied quietly.  
  
"Oh," Rachel commented hesitantly as she looked down at the ground. "That's a pretty common learning disability, isn't it?" she asked after a moment.  
  
"Yeah, it's fairly common," Mark replied. "We had a conference at Ella's school today to speak with her teacher," he explained. "I'm sure Elizabeth didn't mean to snap at you, Rach. She's just worried about Ella, that's all."  
  
"I doubt that," Rachel muttered under her breath.  
  
"What was that?" Mark asked, unsure of what she had just said.  
  
"She blames me," Rachel replied immediately. "That's why she got upset at dinner. She thinks it's my fault."  
  
"Why would she blame you?" Mark asked.  
  
"Oh come on, dad," Rachel contended. "You told me yourself that Ella could have learning disabilities or a low IQ after. . .after she took. . .the Ecstasy. It's my fault," she continued.  
  
"Yeah, Rach, what I said was true," Mark admitted after a moment. "But I don't blame you, and Elizabeth doesn't, either," Mark insisted.  
  
"Of course she does, dad," Rachel shouted as she stood and walked a few steps away from the bench. Turning back around, she said, "Why do you think she doesn't want me to watch Matthew and Ella tomorrow? It all makes sense now. She thinks I'm gonna kill them or something," Rachel spat, rushing further away from her father.  
  
Mark stood, following quickly behind to stop her, but before he could speak, Rachel turned back toward him, her cheeks red from the cold October air, and now stained with tears. "I want to go back to live with mom."  
  
"What?" Mark asked, confused. "You just said you wanted to stay in Chicago."  
  
"Elizabeth hates me. I want to go back to St. Louis," Rachel stated matter-of-factly.  
  
"She does NOT hate you," Mark argued.  
  
"She DOES, and I want to leave," Rachel retorted. "I'll just go to college somewhere in St. Louis."  
  
"Stop it, Rachel," Mark contended. "You can't keep moving from one parent to the other when things get tough. Sometimes you just have to face it. I love you, Rachel, but you need to grow up and learn to deal with things. You can't keep running away from everything."  
  
Rachel halted, regarding her father, surprised by his words. "You blame me too, don't you?" She asked, almost inaudibly.  
  
"I didn't say that, Rachel. I don't know who or what is to blame for this. Hell, it could be my own fault. Who knows," Mark said despondently.  
  
"No, dad. It's my fault. It's all me," Rachel shouted. "You blame me. Elizabeth blames me. I guess I'm just lucky Ella didn't die," Rachel said hatefully.  
  
Mark halted, one of his biggest fears resurfacing. "That was uncalled for, Rachel," he warned.  
  
Rachel stopped, realizing her statement had been harsh, but didn't immediately speak. "But, Elizabeth. . ." Sitting dejectedly back onto the bench and folding her arms in front of her chest, Rachel continued, "Tonight. . .she looked at me. . .she looked at me just like she did when Ella was in the hospital."  
  
"She's upset, Rachel. She needs time," Mark asserted.  
  
"Yeah, right," Rachel retorted sarcastically. "She's not upset. She's a bitch."  
  
"Rachel!" Mark shouted, completely floored by his daughter's attitude. "Stop it, now!" Rachel hung her head, immediately regretting her comment. "What has gotten into you tonight?" he demanded. "You don't mean that, and I know it!" he continued.  
  
She shook her head as she tried to keep her tears from falling again. "I love Ella, dad. And Elizabeth has been awesome ever since I came back to Chicago. It would just kill me if she hated me."  
  
"She doesn't, Rachel," Mark replied, sitting back down on the bench and facing her. "She loves you." Rachel regarded him skeptically, prompting Mark to continue. "Elizabeth just isn't thinking clearly. She's in a defensive state of mind right now," Mark paused, shaking his head. "It can be absolutely infuriating at times, but it's one of the things I respect and love most about her," he replied, smiling revealingly.  
  
"What do you mean, dad?" Rachel asked, returning his smile.  
  
Mark paused again, searching for the right words in order to explain. Finally, he said, "She loves her children, Rachel. Always. But sometimes. . .sometimes when things get rough, or something goes wrong, she gets. . .protective, I guess. Obstinate." Shaking his head, he admitted, "I can't criticize he for it, though. I can be the same way sometimes."  
  
"You know what, though?" He decided to continue after a moment. "Not only is she that way with Ella and Matthew, she's the same way with you, too."  
  
"Really?" Rachel asked, shocked.  
  
"Yeah. After your accident, your well-being seemed to consume her. She wanted desperately for you to be all right. She still does," he stated.  
  
Rachel sighed as she hung her head. She hadn't realized that Elizabeth cared so much. "I just thought she was looking after me because she was my surgeon."  
  
"Well, yeah. That was part of it," Mark answered. "But think about it, Rachel," he paused. "Who insisted on taking you to most of your rehab appointments? Who made sure that you are taken care of when you were in pain. Who gets upset when she can't make it to your soccer games? Who. . ."  
  
"I get it, dad," Rachel replied, smiling. "I should talk to her, huh?"  
  
Mark considered her question momentarily. "Yeah, but not tonight," he finally answered. Pausing, he then said, "Rachel, this thing with Ella. It's not all that Elizabeth's upset about." Mark felt that Rachel needed to know. She needed to know that the tension she was receiving from Elizabeth wasn't her fault.  
  
"What?" Rachel asked, curiously. "What's wrong?"  
  
Mark hesitated momentarily. "It's Isabelle. We told you about the Alzheimer's when we got back from England, and she was fine for a while, but now. . .well. . .she's gotten worse," he said. "She doesn't remember Ella and Matthew, and it's upsetting Elizabeth considerably."  
  
"Geez," Rachel replied. "The good times just keep coming."  
  
Mark nodded at his daughter's reaction, but didn't respond. They sat in companionable silence a while longer before Mark replied, "Come on. I'm freezing, and it's getting dark. Let's get out of here."  
  
Walking down the hall toward the master bedroom after arriving home from their walk, Mark stopped at Ella's door when he heard Elizabeth's voice reading their daughter's favorite bedtime story. "Somewhere a pair of shoes lies under a chair. A window yawns open. Twilight blazes a trail across the wall. And if the moon could talk, it would tell of evening stealing through the woods and a lizard scurrying home to supper. Someone hums quietly. A clock ticks. A light flicks on. . ."  
  
"You need help?" Mark mouthed silently as he entered the room.  
  
"Take Matthew?" she requested quietly. "And if the moon could talk," Elizabeth continued, "it would tell of sand blowing across the desert and nomads crouching by the dune."  
  
Mark was content to watch his family momentarily before he noticed how uncomfortable Elizabeth was getting with the baby resting on her chest. Leaning over her as she read, he gently kissed Ella's forehead, before saying, "Goodnight, sweetheart."   
  
"Night, daddy," Ella spoke through tired eyes.  
  
Taking Matthew from his wife, Mark said, "I'm going to take a quick shower before bed."  
  
"Ok, I'll be through in a minute," she replied as she turned back to Ella and their book.  
  
When Ella had finally given into sleep, Elizabeth quickly checked on Matthew in the nursery before she entered the master bedroom. Hearing Mark singing as the shower ran, she chuckled to herself. Pulling off her clothes, she decided not to change into her pajamas, but instead, quietly entered the bathroom. Gently stepping into the shower, she saw Mark standing under the hot spray, his back turned toward her. Approaching him, she kissed the base of his neck sending a shiver down his spine as he jumped slightly with surprise. She chuckled softly as she then placed her hands on his hips and continued to kiss her way down his back. Stopping in the center of his back, she then ran her hands over his stomach, crossing her arms in front of his chest and embracing him tightly. Resting her cheek on his back, she sighed.  
  
Mark reached up and held her hands to his chest. Waiting a moment before he spoke, he finally said, "Well, this is certainly a surprise." Elizabeth chuckled against his back and then kissed his shoulder blade before he turned around to meet her gaze. "We haven't done this in a while," he commented, placing his arms around her waist.  
  
Elizabeth just smiled ruefully as her eyes met his, but then her gaze fell from his face to his chest and then to his abdomen. "Mark!" She said in surprise.  
  
"What?" He asked, unsure what she was looking at. Running her hands over his chest and arms, she couldn't keep the smile off her face. "What? What are you looking at?" Mark asked again.  
  
"You," Elizabeth said, almost shyly. "Look at you, Mark. You've really been taking this weight lifting with Rachel seriously."  
  
"It's not like you haven't seen me without a shirt on recently," he remarked, amused.  
  
"I know, but I guess I just never paid much attention," she admitted.   
  
Now it was Mark's turn to chuckle. Pulling her closer to him, he teasingly asked, "So, you like the Mr. Hard Body type?"  
  
"Not really. That kind of thing isn't what matters to me," Elizabeth commented, honestly. "But. . .on you. . .well. . .it's just. . .mmm. . .nice," she finished as she leaned down to kiss his sternum. "Not that you didn't look good before, but this is. . .it's just. . . You look great, Mark."  
  
"Well, thank you," he laughed at Elizabeth's stuttering. "Just as long as you're happy," he responded. Elizabeth sighed as she rested her head against his chest. "You feeling any better?" He asked.  
  
Elizabeth was quiet a moment longer as she relaxed into the feeling of being so close to him. Raising her head to look into his eyes, she smiled weakly. Finally speaking, she said, "I just want our little girl to be all right, Mark."  
  
"She will be, Elizabeth," Mark stated. "Ella's going to be fine."  
  
Elizabeth nodded as she looked up into his eyes. "I should go apologize to Rachel," she stated suddenly.  
  
Mark watched her face momentarily. Running his arms up and down her back, he said, "I told her about Ella. She's pretty upset." Pausing before he continued, he then replied, "She thinks it's her fault." Elizabeth watched him as he spoke, but then after giving him an imperceptible nod, she hung her head. Taking in this action, Mark was confused. "Do you blame her, Elizabeth?" He questioned suspiciously.  
  
Elizabeth knew she needed to be honest with him. But, she also knew how she was feeling right now. Her emotions were raw, and she realized that she could potentially say something that she would regret. The truth, though, was that some part of her did blame Rachel, even though they didn't truly know what had caused this. Maybe it was her own fault. Maybe the Terbutaline they had administered to her when she went into pre-term with Ella was the cause. "I don't know, Mark," she finally said. "It just seems like it could be the cause. It makes the most sense."  
  
Pulling away from her, he removed his arms from around her body. He started to speak, but instead, turned to shut off the spray of the shower. Without saying a word, he stepped out of the shower, leaving Elizabeth standing alone. "Mark," she called sadly, stepping over the tub and into the bathroom. Pulling her robe onto her wet body, she entered the bedroom to find him pulling on a pair of pants and a shirt. "Mark," she said again. "Where are you going?"  
  
"You blame Rachel, Elizabeth. You can't dance around it any longer. I just spent a half hour trying to convince her that you don't think it's her fault. I guess I was wrong, though. Brutally wrong. I can't believe this," he hissed, shaking his head.  
  
"Mark, please," Elizabeth started.  
  
"No, Elizabeth. If you blame her, then you don't trust her with Ella and Matthew. And if you don't trust her, then you obviously don't want her here," Mark began. "And if you don't want Rachel here," he continued, "then maybe you don't want me here either."  
  
"That's not true, Mark," she argued.  
  
"We don't KNOW this is because of the Ecstasy overdose," he criticized, disregarding the fact that she had spoken. "This could be MY fault, Elizabeth. Do you think I haven't considered that?"  
  
Elizabeth regarded Mark with a confused and hurt look. "What are you talking about?"  
  
He watched her for a moment, not wanting to admit what he was thinking. It was hard enough just to think it, let alone say the words aloud. Finally, he said, "Come on, Elizabeth. We both know my body wasn't functioning as it should have been when Ella was conceived. The tumor had probably already started. How do you know that isn't what caused this?" He looked down and then said, "How do you know it's not my fault?"  
  
"Mark, it isn't your fault," she said. "There's no proof that. . ."  
  
"Your right, Elizabeth. There is no proof. There's absolutely no proof that it's Rachel's fault, either. Just think about it, though. The tumor was adjacent to Broca's, affecting the language center of my brain. Now, Ella's having trouble reading, interpreting language. You think that's just a coincidence? Maybe it is, but then again... maybe it's not," he said as he stared toward the bedroom door.  
  
Elizabeth dejectedly sat on the edge of their bed. "It could be my fault, too," she said quietly.  
  
"What?" He asked, turning from the door.  
  
She diverted his gaze initially, but then looked up sadly to meet his eyes. "The Terbutaline," she stated despairingly.  
  
Realization dawned on him. They both had cause to blame themselves. He had never even considered this, though. Not even for a moment. "Elizabeth, no," he said, crossing the room to stand in front of her. "Terbutaline administration usually doesn't have an effect on children. You know that."  
  
Elizabeth regarded him sharply. "Do I, Mark?" She asked. "All I really know is that Terbutaline is nothing more than an asthma drug. One that hasn't even been approved for pre-term labor."  
  
"Elizabeth, you and I both know that many drugs are used for different things," Mark rationalized.  
  
"In small doses, Mark. Not three rounds and then by mouth for two months," she explained. She paused and then said, "I read an article online while you were walking with Rachel. It said that in large doses, Terbutaline could cause decreased blood flow to the Middle Cerebral Artery. Do you know what part of the brain the left MCA supplies, Mark?" She paused. She could tell he was thinking, but that he was unsure. "Broca's," she finally said. "Broca's, Mark, and dyslexia is a neurodevelopmental disorder. Changes that take place in the brain during development contribute to the condition."  
  
"You've really thought about this, haven't you," Mark said when she finished.  
  
She nodded slightly. "You're right. I have no right to blame Rachel. I ruined Ella's life before the Ecstasy ever had the chance," Elizabeth stated dejectedly.  
  
"Her life isn't ruined, Elizabeth," Mark tried to convince her as he sat down next to her on the edge of the bed. "And we aren't going to accomplish anything by blaming ourselves or each other. Or Rachel for that matter. It just happened, and obviously there are many things that could have caused this; many things for us to blame. But why? We don't have control over any of it any longer."  
  
Elizabeth sighed again, shaking her head. He was right. Ella needed help, and they weren't going to get anywhere acting like this. "I just don't understand," she finally admitted. "I've tried so hard. I've tried to be a good mother. What am I doing wrong?"  
  
"Nothing, Elizabeth. You're doing nothing wrong. We just have to accept this," he said.  
  
"I don't want to accept this, Mark," Elizabeth hissed as she stood from the bed. Starting to pace the room, she said, "What makes me a good doctor is the fact that I don't accept things. I keep pushing. I keep trying. I know it's totally irrational to think that my children should be perfect, but it makes me sick, Mark. I feel responsible. I want to be able to fix her. Why can't I fix her?"  
  
Mark watched her before he spoke, his voice dropping a bit. "Because she isn't something to be fixed, Elizabeth. All we can do is help her. Help her cope. Help her compensate. Review and practice with her, that's all."  
  
She stopped her movements about the room, and he could visibly see the resistance leaving her body. "We'll just work with her," she eventually admitted. Buy anything that is necessary to teach her. Books, games, whatever."  
  
"That's all we can do," Mark restated as he stood. "We'll get her through this."  
  
Elizabeth nodded as her eyes followed him to where he now stood at the closet removing the clothing he had hastily started to put on after he exited the shower. Her face fell when she realized that Mark had been ready to walk out on her not thirty minutes earlier. She considered momentarily what to say. When he turned back around, now dressed only in his boxers, she hesitantly asked, "Were you. . .were you really planning on going out tonight?"  
  
He looked back at her, but didn't respond. He quietly walked from the closet and stood by the bed to pull down the comforter before getting in. She pursed her lips together and crossed her arms in front of her when, by his actions and silence, she realized that the thought had more than crossed his mind. Sitting down on the edge of the bed as he lie there, she looked down at him. "Mark?" she questioned.  
  
He sighed and looking up at the ceiling, he said, "Yes, Elizabeth. I was going to leave."  
  
Hesitating momentarily she pondered what she was about to ask, unsure if she truly wanted to hear his response. Finally, she asked, "Well, were you planning on coming back?"  
  
"Of course I was going to come back, Elizabeth," he admitted immediately. "I just felt like I needed to walk." She only nodded slightly.  
  
"Look," he said as he sat up and leaned against the headboard. "I got angry. I had just spent a half hour trying to convince Rachel that you don't hate her, only to come home and find out that I defended you for nothing."  
  
"I don't hate her," she replied defensively.  
  
"I know. You just caught me off guard," he admitted. Taking her left hand into his, he replied, "I'm not going anywhere, ok."  
  
"Ok," she answered quietly.  
  
He leaned toward her and kissed her cheek gently. "You absolutely infuriate me, Elizabeth, but that doesn't mean I don't love you. Nothing could ever change that."  
  
"I'm sorry, Mark. I love you, too," she said, placing her arms around him.  
  
"We're going to make it, Elizabeth. We're going to get Ella through this," he replied into her still damp hair as he held her.  
  
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Arriving home the next afternoon, Elizabeth called into the house, "Mark!" Receiving no response, she called again, "Mark! Ella!" unbuttoning the coat she wore as she ascended the stairs, she first checked Ella's bedroom before entering the master bedroom. Empty. Not one of the four other occupants of the house were present. As she threw her coat across the bed and began to change her clothes, her anger started to rise. Where were they? Once changed into a more comfortable pair of jeans and a white blouse, she pulled her hair back out of her face. Descending the stairs she entered the kitchen where she found a note resting on the island in the middle of the room. Written in his familiar scrawl, she read,  
  
Elizabeth,  
  
It's a beautiful day outside, so I decided to take Ella and Matthew to the park. My shift starts at six, so we'll be home before five. Join us if you get this in time.  
  
~Mark  
  
Elizabeth glanced down at her watch. 3:45pm. What was he thinking? Ella didn't need to be at the park right now. She needed to be at home working on her reading skills, just like they had talked about the night before. She considered paging him or calling his cell phone, but finally she just decided to wait for them to get home. The more she thought about it, the angrier she got. Finally, deciding to boot up the computer so that she could order several books and games concerning dyslexia that she had come across the evening before, she again ascended the stairs. Entering the small study that was next to the nursery, she turned on the computer and sat at the desk. Sighing, she rested her head in her hands until she heard the computer beep. Looking up, she began her Internet search.  
  
Around 4:30, she heard the front door open and then listened as two sets of feet ascend the stairs. "Daddy," she heard. "Let's play Candy Land."  
  
"I can't right now, sweetie. I need to take a shower before work. I think mommy's home, though. I'm sure she'll play," Elizabeth heard Mark say.  
  
"Elizabeth?" He called. She didn't answer, but instead waited for him to find her. "Hey," he said as he opened the door to the study. He held a squirming Matthew in his arms, who was still bundled in a coat and hat that had served to protect his small ten-month-old body from the chilly October wind. Crossing the short distance toward his wife, Mark pushed the hat off Matthew's head as he asked, "What's up?"  
  
She still didn't respond, only gracing him with an obstinate glance. "What?" He questioned, the smile fading from his face.  
  
Elizabeth stood and turned off the computer. Still not speaking, she left the study and entered the master bedroom. Mark followed closely behind, still carrying Matthew. "Elizabeth! What's the matter?"  
  
"What's the matter? What's the matter, Mark?" She repeated sarcastically, taking Matthew from his arms.  
  
"Yes, Elizabeth. What's going on?" He asked.  
  
She sat Matthew on the bed and took his coat off. Picking him up again, she asked, "What were you thinking, Mark? I came home early from work today to help Ella with her reading. But where was she? She was at the park playing with you."  
  
"I had no idea you were coming home early just to do that. How was I supposed to know?"  
  
"It doesn't matter, Mark. YOU should have been reading with her instead of taking her to the park?" Elizabeth huffed.  
  
"She asked me to take her Elizabeth, so I did," Mark replied.  
  
"Oh, that's just great," Elizabeth hissed, chuckling sarcastically. "Matthew," she said, looking at the baby as she crossed the room to leave, "Ask daddy if you can play with knives. I'm sure he'll say yes."  
  
"You're being ridiculous, Elizabeth," Mark countered. "Ella's not even five years old," Grabbing her arm to turn her toward him, he said, "We have to let her be a child."  
  
"We have to teach her how to read!" Elizabeth exclaimed. "So we. . ."  
  
"She'll learn, Elizabeth," Mark interrupted. "She goes to school every day where her teachers are going to help her through this. So, when she comes home, she deserves to be a child. At least for a little while."  
  
"Are you saying that a little extra work at home isn't going to help?" Elizabeth asked in disbelief. "If I recall correctly, last night you told me that all we have to do is review and practice with her. Did you mean that, or were you just trying to get me to shut up?" Elizabeth asked angrily.  
  
"I meant what I said, Elizabeth. But, she's just a little girl. Not a machine, and she needs a break," Mark stated. "She's going to burn out if we push her."  
  
"Fine, Mark. If you don't want to help with this, I'll do it myself."   
  
"Elizabeth," Mark said wearily. "I didn't say. . ."  
  
"No, Mark," Elizabeth interrupted. "All I am trying to do is give our daughter a little extra help, and if you are unwilling to do the same, then I'll just do it on my own," Elizabeth said as she pulled their bedroom door open. "Just forget it. I'll handle it myself."  
  
He was hurt. How could Elizabeth even consider for one moment that he was unwilling to help out with their daughter. He didn't know what to do, but as he watched her open the door, he knew that if he said what was going through his head he would probably regret it, but before he could stop himself, he angrily retorted, "You know what, that's just fine. Maybe I should have just gone with my gut and left like I started to do last night. You obviously don't need my help, so just go ahead and raise Ella on your own. You thought it was a good idea four years ago, so maybe you should just try it again."  
  
Upon the release of his words, Elizabeth halted and turning from the door, she just stared at her husband, obviously hurt by his words. Even though he was shocked by his own response, he did not back down, only returning her stare just as fiercely. He quietly said, "Elizabeth, I. . .I'm. . .I'm going to be late for work."  
  
They just stared at each other across the room before Elizabeth diverted her gaze momentarily looking toward the window, before once again looking him directly in the eyes. Quietly she dejectedly whispered, "Then go."  
  
Suddenly, Mark knew that he had to get out of there before he said anything else he would regret. Turning from her defiant glare and deciding that his shower could wait until he arrived at work, he walked quickly out the bedroom door, oblivious to the figure that stood across the hall. Rachel watched as her father rushed from the bedroom and down the stairs. Standing dumbfounded for a moment, she then slowly descended the stairs behind him.  
  
From the bedroom, Elizabeth heard him rush down the stairs, and then she jumped slightly when the front door slammed. Closing her eyes, she clenched her jaws, fighting desperately to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. Right then, all she wanted to do was pick up the telephone, dial his cell phone, and apologize, but she knew this was going to take more than that. Much, much more.  
  
As Mark sped out of the garage, he knew he should pick up his cell phone, dial the number for their house, and tell her how sorry he was, but he also knew this was going to take more than that. Much, much more. He remorsefully placed the cell phone on the seat beside him and quietly drove the familiar route to work at County General.  
  
Elizabeth stood in their bedroom dumbfounded by the events of the past half hour. After sitting on the edge of their bed for a while trying to calm her emotions, the soft whimpers of her son jerked her from her thoughts. Realizing that she still held him tightly in her arms, she sighed. Holding him closer to her body, and placing her hand on the back of his small head, she hugged him gently. "I'm sorry, sweetheart," she cooed. "I'm sorry."  
  
Carrying Matthew with her, Elizabeth walked down the hall toward Ella's bedroom. Hearing what she believed to be the sobs of her daughter, Elizabeth curiously walked into Ella's room where she saw the four and a half year old lying face down on her bed, her entire body shaking with tears. Sitting down beside her obviously troubled daughter, Elizabeth gently stroked her back. When Ella still did not calm, Elizabeth asked, "Ella, sweetie? Why the tears?" The little girl continued to cry into her pillow, prompting Elizabeth to beg, "Please, Ella. Tell mommy what's wrong."  
  
Ella finally slowly lifted her head, rebelliously looking at her mother, the tears staining her small face. Still sobbing, she managed to cry out, "You. . .you. . .you don't. . .love me. . .anymore!"  
  
After her admission, the tears fell even harder. Once she had placed Matthew on the floor of Ella's room to crawl around, Elizabeth lifted Ella to sit on her lap, and said gently, "Sweetie, of course I love you."  
  
"No, you don't. You're mad at me 'cause I went to the park, and you don't love me. And daddy. . .daddy doesn't love me, either," Ella sobbed.  
  
"Sweetie, what makes you think we don't love you?" Elizabeth asked, not completely sure of what had caused this torrent of tears and emotion from her daughter.  
  
"Daddy always kisses me before he leaves for work," Ella said simply, looking up into her mother's worried eyes. "But. . .but he didn't today. And. . .and. . .and you're mad 'cause I went to the park," the little girl stated again, trying to catch her breath as the tears continued to fall.   
  
Elizabeth was taken aback by her daughter's words. Ella truly believed that her parents didn't love her, and because of the events that had transpired earlier, Elizabeth considered that to be mostly her own fault. "Oh, sweetie, daddy was. . .he was just in a hurry to get to work. I promise that he loves you, and I do too," Elizabeth finally explained.  
  
"No, mommy. He doesn't love me and neither do you," Ella insisted again.  
  
"Yes, Ella, I do love you. Daddy and I both love you more than anything," Elizabeth tried to make Ella understand, but to no avail. "Daddy wouldn't have taken you to the park today if he didn't love you, would he?" Elizabeth asked, trying desperately to explain this to Ella at a level she could understand.  
  
"I don't know," Ella stated through tears.  
  
Elizabeth looked at her distraught daughter, and pulling her closer, she said, "He loves you, Ella. We both do, sweetheart." Elizabeth paused. "I promise that I love you with all my heart."  
  
Ella regarded her mother warily before saying, "But I still don't think daddy does. Because he always kisses me, mommy. But today he didn't because I'm stupid," Ella finally admitted.  
  
Elizabeth pulled away from Ella in order to study her tear stained face. There, Elizabeth saw that Ella was completely serious. "Ella, you are NOT stupid!" Elizabeth exclaimed. "Who said that you're stupid?" Elizabeth was sure that she had never seen Ella cry so hard in her entire life. She embraced her close to her chest, hoping to soothe the little girl, but nothing seemed to be working. "Come on, Elle, tell me who called you stupid," Elizabeth pleaded as she rubbed Ella's back.  
  
Finally Ella said, "Tommy. . .in my class. He said I was stupid because I'm dicseclic," Ella whimpered.  
  
Elizabeth was confused and furious all at the same time, wondering how any other child in Ella's class knew about this. Turning her mind from that momentarily, Elizabeth made a mental note to get to the bottom of this somehow, but then returned her attention to Ella. Taking Ella's chin in her hand, Elizabeth raised it up to face her. "Look at me, Ella," Elizabeth said sternly. "Sweetheart, you are not stupid, and I promise that daddy and I still love you."  
  
"But, mommy, I can't do what the other kids at school do," Ella complained.  
  
Elizabeth wanted so much to take away her daughter's pain as she pondered what to say to her. Finally, she admitted, "You're right, Ella. Right now, you can't do what some of the other kids can do, but that's why daddy and I bought some new games and books for you. Not because you 're stupid, but because you are very, very smart. Those books are just going to help you with some of the things that you are having trouble with. That's all. Daddy and I are going to read and work through the books with you so you will be able to do all those things you can't. You 're having a little trouble right now, Elle, but sweetie, you are NOT stupid."  
  
Ella's tears finally had slowed a bit when she said, "But, what's dicseclic, mommy?"  
  
Elizabeth pondered her daughter's question momentarily, wondering what would be the best way to explain. As she thought, she looked around to check on Matthew, who was busily chewing on the ear of one of Ella's stuffed animals. Sure that he was all right, she replied, "Well, sweetie, the word is dyslexic." Elizabeth paused a moment longer, trying to find the right words to explain. "It just means that your brain likes to think in pictures, and sometimes that makes it hard for you to understand letters and numbers." Elizabeth paused again, to regard Ella's young face. She really was such a beautiful little girl. Her little girl. Elizabeth wiped a stray tear from Ella's face before asking, "Do you understand that?"  
  
"Yes, mommy, but why is that bad? Pictures are pretty," Ella said innocently.  
  
Elizabeth was surprised by Ella's insight, and she realized that she was absolutely right. Pictures were beautiful things just like the angel seated beside her. Stroking Ella's hair back from her face, Elizabeth said, "You're absolutely right, Ella, but as you get older, you are going to have to understand letters and numbers. So, that's why we are going to help you with that. Because daddy and I BOTH love you very, very much." Elizabeth smiled when she saw a brighter expression come over Ella's face. Hopefully she truly understood.  
  
"So, daddy was just in a hurry?" Ella asked, still not completely sure she believed her mother.  
  
Elizabeth mused that question for just a moment. She hated lying to her children, but she definitely didn't want to tell her the entire truth about this one. Sighing, Elizabeth said, "Yes, sweetheart. Daddy was just in a hurry."  
  
"And he still loves me?" Ella asked warily.  
  
"Yes, Ella. He still loves you," Elizabeth stated.  
  
"Can I call him and ask?" Ella asked.  
  
"I'm sure he's busy, Ella," Elizabeth replied hastily, shaking her head. She knew that if Ella called Mark asking if he still loved her, the time would eventually come when she would have to talk to him in order to explain what had happened. She wasn't sure she was ready to do that right now. He had hurt her, and she knew she had done the same to him. Elizabeth knew that she eventually needed to talk to him to work everything out. They needed to be together to help Ella right now, not fighting amongst themselves. It was going to be a big enough battle to get Ella up to speed with the rest of her classmates.  
  
"Please, mommy," Ella begged with a sheepish grin on her face. The same one Mark wore. Elizabeth smiled as she pondered the fact that they both knew how to get to her. Elizabeth sighed and reached down to pick up Matthew who had just climbed his way to stand, balancing his hands on her knees. "I just want to ask him if he loves me. That's it. I promise," Ella said when she sensed that her mother was not going to give in.  
  
Elizabeth could still see the uncertainty concerning Mark's love for her in Ella's eyes and finally relented, saying, "All right, but only five minutes, ok. Daddy is very busy at the hospital." Ella nodded her agreement and Elizabeth said, "Ok, let's go downstairs and call."  
  
As Ella sat anxiously on the couch, Elizabeth sat beside her, dialing the number. "Now, when someone answers, ask for Dr. Greene, ok?"  
  
"I know, mommy," Ella stated as she held the phone to her ear. A few moments later, Ella sweetly said, "Hello, may I speak with Dr. Greene?"  
  
"Is this Ella Greene?" Asked the voice on the other end.  
  
"Yes it is. Who is this?" Ella asked curiously. Elizabeth smiled as she listened to Ella's conversation and watched Matthew as he held onto the coffee table in order to walk around it.  
  
"This is Haleh, Ella," came the response.  
  
"Hi, Haleh," Ella said excitedly.  
  
"Hold on a minute, honey, your daddy just walked in the door," Haleh said as she motioned for Mark. When Mark saw her holding the telephone out toward him, he wasn't sure what to think. He knew that right now probably wouldn't be the best time to talk to Elizabeth if the person on the other end of the phone happened to be her. "It's Ella. She would like to speak with Dr. Greene," Haleh replied, making his decision to answer the phone much easier.  
  
Setting his bag down on the admit desk, he held the phone to his ear, and jokingly said, "Hello, this is Dr. Greene."  
  
"Hi daddy, it's me," Ella replied.  
  
"Who is me?" Mark asked, smiling.  
  
"Ella, daddy!" the little girl exclaimed.  
  
"Oh, Ella! I thought I recognized that voice," Mark teased. Taking on a more serious tone, he asked, "What do you need, sweetheart?"  
  
"I need to ask you a question, daddy," Ella stated emphatically.  
  
"Go ahead," Mark said into the phone.  
  
Ella was quiet for a moment as she looked at her mother, but then asked, "Daddy, do you still love me?"   
  
Mark was stunned. He hadn't known what the question Ella needed to ask was exactly, but he never would have predicted this. Of course the answer was yes, but her question shocked him so much that he did not immediately reply.   
  
Ella picked up on this silence and as the tears started to come once again, she looked at Elizabeth, saying, "Mommy, I told you he didn't love me!" Now, it was Elizabeth's turn to be stunned. She definitely hadn't expected that. What did Mark say to her?  
  
Hearing Ella's words to Elizabeth and then hearing his daughter's sobs, Mark was soon ripped from momentarily being dumbfounded. "Ella! Ella!" Mark quickly called into the phone. "Of course I love you, sweetheart," Mark answered ardently.   
  
Upon hearing her father's words, Ella's tears started to subside. "And you don't think I'm stupid?" Ella asked, sniffing as she spoke.  
  
"No, Elle, I do not think that you are stupid. Where did that come from?" Mark asked, confused.  
  
"Tommy at school said that I am stupid because I am dicseclic," Ella answered. "Mommy said that my brain just likes to think about pictures instead of letters and numbers. Is mommy right, daddy?"  
  
"Of course mommy's right, Ellie. You're not stupid, and I still love you," Mark said again. "I promise."  
  
Ella smiled upon hearing Marks words to her. "I love you too, daddy," she replied.  
  
Mark wasn't sure what had happened after he left the house, but obviously he had left Elizabeth with a very distraught little girl. He could tell by the tone of Ella's voice that she was extremely upset about this. He needed to get to the bottom of this, but he knew that in order to do that, he would have to talk to Elizabeth. Thinking for a moment, he realized that right now, he needed to push aside his stupid pride and just think of his daughter. Sighing, he said, "Ella, can I talk to mommy?"  
  
"Yes, daddy. She's right here," Ella said as she handed the phone to her mother.  
  
Mark listened anxiously for Elizabeth to speak to Ella, but he heard nothing. Waiting a moment longer, her finally heard, "Hello," as Elizabeth stood from the couch and walked into the kitchen out of ear shot from Ella and Matthew who remained in the living room.  
  
"Hi," he responded quietly. There was a long pause on the phone, neither knowing exactly what to say. Finally, when he could stand the silence no more, he said, "Elizabeth, about earlier, I. . ."  
  
"Let's not, Mark," Elizabeth interrupted. "I know we need to talk, but not now. Not like this."  
  
There was another long pause before he spoke again. "Ok, you're right," he conceded. "Can you at least tell me what's wrong with Ella?" He asked, a hint of concern in his voice.  
  
"She was upset after you. . .left, Mark," Elizabeth began. "You rushed out without kissing her and she assumed that meant that you don't love her anymore. I tried to assure her that you were just in a hurry and that we both love her, but I couldn't convince her," Elizabeth finished with a sigh. "She just kept crying, Mark."  
  
Mark listened to the distress in Elizabeth's voice. He couldn't believe that Ella actually thought that they didn't love her. "Well, then what happened? Where did all this about her being stupid come from?" Mark asked, confused.  
  
Elizabeth sighed again. "She said a boy in her class told her that she is stupid because she is dyslexic. I told her that she just needs a little help right now and that you and I are going to do everything we can to help her. She seemed to understand, but I'm not so sure. I really hope I got through to her, Mark," Elizabeth said warily.  
  
"Me, too," he admitted. "But how did one of her classmates know about any of this to begin with?" Mark asked, obviously peeved by the fact that this information about their daughter had not been kept confidential.  
  
"I have no idea, Mark, but I intend to find out. It isn't anyone else's business and now Ella thinks she's stupid because somehow, someone found out. I feel like calling the school and telling them where to. . . ."  
  
"Hold on, Elizabeth," Mark interrupted. "Don't do anything tonight. Just make sure Ella totally understands, and we'll talk about this tomorrow, ok," Mark warned. He wasn't sure if that was exactly the best thing to say to his wife right now considering the precarious situation their marriage was in. He just hoped he hadn't pushed her too far with what he'd said.  
  
Waiting anxiously for her response, Mark couldn't help but wonder what was happening to them. That was why, when she finally spoke, he was surprised to hear her agreeing tone. "You're right, Mark. I shouldn't go off and irrationally do something that could prove detrimental to Ella and her future," Elizabeth conceded. "It just pisses me off!"  
  
"I know, Elizabeth," Mark assured her. "We'll talk about it when I get home tomorrow morning, though. Then we can decide what the best thing to do is, ok?"  
  
"Yeah," Elizabeth replied, softly. After a moment, she admitted, "We have a lot to talk about."  
  
"Yes, we do," Mark replied. "We need to clear the air." He knew this was a start for them. At least right now they were speaking like two rational thinking adults.  
  
"Yeah, it's pretty thick, here," Elizabeth admitted, casting her eyes toward the ceiling. Then, through the telephone, she heard some commotion in the background. "Is everything all right?" She asked.  
  
"Uhh. . ." Mark said as he looked behind him. "Multiple victim MVA. I gotta go."  
  
"Ok, I'll see you tomorrow morning. Be careful," Elizabeth said as she started to hang up the phone.  
  
"Elizabeth," Mark called before she could hang up. He then paused before saying, "I love you."  
  
Elizabeth closed her eyes and sighed. "Me too."  
  
"I'll see you in the morning," he continued and then the line went dead.  
  
Elizabeth had to smile. As much as that man infuriated her and as much as his words earlier that evening had wounded her, she genuinely still loved him. He had been right, though, and she had to admit that everything he had accused her of was true. She had given up on them four years ago, but it was finally the common ground of their daughter that brought them back together. Staring out the window of the kitchen, her mind drifted back to four years earlier.  
  
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
She didn't want to ask for his help. She wanted to prove to herself and the rest of the world that she could do this; that she could take care of Ella on her own. Cursing Romano for changing her schedule and therefore placing her in this situation, she picked up the telephone and hastily dialed the number that up until a month ago, was her own. When she heard him answer the phone, she hesitated, fighting the urge to hang up.  
  
"Hello," Mark said again.  
  
"Umm, Mark. It's Elizabeth," she finally said. She hesitated again before saying anything else.  
  
"Is everything all right?" Mark asked, convinced that the only reason she would call would be if there was something wrong with Ella.  
  
"Oh, uhh, yes, everything is fine, Mark, but. . ." she paused again, but finally gave in to her pride. "Romano has my schedule all jumbled and I'm not going to be able to get back before 6:00 to get Ella from Katherine. I really hate to ask, but. . ."  
  
"It's fine, Elizabeth. I'll get her," Mark interrupted.  
  
"Thank you, Mark. I, uhh. . .well, she and Katherine will be at. . ."  
  
"I know where you're staying, Elizabeth," Mark interrupted again.  
  
"Oh. . .yes. . .right. Ok, well, I'll try to finish up here as soon as I can," Elizabeth said. She couldn't believe she was this nervous talking to him, and she knew she was probably mumbling like an idiot.  
  
"It's ok. Take as much time as you need. Ella and I will be fine," Mark said. He missed his daughter so much. Who was he kidding? He missed Elizabeth just as much, but he didn't know what to do to get her to come home. All he knew was that this separation was ripping his heart out, and he wasn't sure how much longer he was going to be able to take it.  
  
"Ok, well, I have to be in surgery in fifteen minutes, so I better go," Elizabeth said and then after pausing a moment, she quietly said, "Thank you, Mark," before quickly hanging up the phone.  
  
Before Mark could respond, he heard the phone go dead in his ear. It had been so good to hear her voice. Even if the conversation had been filled with tension and uncertainty. He could have just stayed on the phone listening to her for hours. Finally putting down the phone, Mark smiled. He was finally going to get to see his little girl.  
  
At around 12:30am, an exhausted Elizabeth unlocked the door to the small hotel room she had been living in for the past four weeks. Taking off her coat, she looked around and was taken aback by the scene before her. Mark lay asleep on the bed, Ella cuddled beside him, his hand resting on her small stomach. Elizabeth couldn't help the smile that took over her face. It had been a long time since she had seen that similar sight, and it almost took her breath away. Walking over to the bed, she gently lifted Ella, trying carefully not to wake Mark, in a futile attempt to let him sleep.  
  
As soon as he felt Ella's absence from the side of his body, his eyes snapped open. "It's ok, Mark. I'm just going to put her to bed," Elizabeth whispered. Sitting up on the bed, Mark watched as Elizabeth placed Ella in the playpen that had been serving as her bed. After Elizabeth covered the sleeping baby, Mark stood from his seat on the bed and reached for his coat that was thrown across a chair. When Elizabeth turned back toward him, he was starting toward the door. Before she could even think about what she was saying, the words just tumbled from her mouth. "It's late, Mark. You're tired. You shouldn't be driving home right now. Why don't you just stay here?" She prompted. ". . .we could talk. . ." she finished hesitantly.  
  
Mark regarded her questioningly and then said, "I need to get home, Elizabeth."  
  
"Oh, Rachel. Right," Elizabeth said hesitantly after watching him for a moment. At that very second, she envied her stepdaughter more than any grown woman should ever envy a child. Even though she tried to think rationally, Elizabeth couldn't help but resent Rachel for the pain she had caused and for the fact that she was the reason Mark would not stay there in that small hotel room with her and Ella.  
  
Mark regarded her actions carefully. She looked hurt, or was that jealousy that he saw in her features. Finally deciding to answer Elizabeth's unspoken question, Mark quietly said, "Rachel's gone, Elizabeth. She and Jen both agreed it would be best if she moved back to St. Louis for a while."  
  
Elizabeth regarded him skeptically for a few moments, but then questioned, "Rachel's back in Saint Louis?" Mark just looked at her and nodded. "Why. . .why didn't you tell me, Mark?"  
  
Mark stood across the room from her, quietly weighing his words. Finally, he spoke, responding fairly bluntly, "Because I didn't want you to come back just because Rachel was gone." He then paused before admitting, "In fact, if I had things my way, she'd still be here. She doesn't deserve to be disregarded and tossed from one angry parent to the other, Elizabeth. She's still part of my life, and I won't shut her out."  
  
Elizabeth thought about his words and stared at him in disbelief before saying, her voice rising in volume, "But you obviously will shut Ella and me out! All I asked for was a minute of your time, but you aren't willing to give US that." She was hurt and didn't understand. He didn't need to get home to Rachel, so why wouldn't he stay there and just talk to her? Elizabeth tried to calm her emotions before asking, "You may be furious with me, but Ella is still your daughter, just like Rachel, and she doesn't deserve to be disregarded and not given a moment of your time."  
  
"Well, you haven't wanted my time or allowed me to be her father or your husband for almost a month now, Elizabeth. Why should that change now?" Mark asked harshly as he hurried to the door.  
  
Before she could think, the words tumbled forth. "Because I'm tired of being alone all the damn time," Elizabeth admitted in desperation, but stopped suddenly when she realized what she had said.  
  
Her words took him by surprise. He'd put up all his defenses toward her. He had to. His heart was breaking inside, and he knew that he couldn't take the pain much longer. So, he definitely hadn't expected this declaration from her tonight. He was speechless as he stood across the room staring down at the doorknob that he held in his hand.  
  
Finally, when Elizabeth felt that she had regained her composure, she dryly said, "But, if you don't want to stay, even though there's nothing for you to go home to, that's fine. Just leave! Maybe I'll see you at work tomorrow." With that, Elizabeth turned from him, busying herself with tidying the room in an attempt to hide her great disappointment from him.  
  
Walking up behind her, Mark gently grabbed her arm and turned her toward him. "I'll stay, Elizabeth," he replied softly.  
  
The innocent touch of his hand on her arm sent shivers through her body. She couldn't remember the last time he had genuinely touched her. It may have been the night Ella was in the P.I.C.U when he had surrounded her body with his, holding onto her as they both cried in fear. Straightening up to look at him, she hesitated before saying, "Ok, umm. You can sit down if you'd like." She motioned to the chairs that sat around a table in the small hotel room.  
  
"Thank you," he replied.  
  
She watched as he took a seat, but did not do the same herself. So many thoughts were rushing through her head that she didn't know where to begin. Nervously, she began to pace the room, fumbling with the wedding rings that remained on her left hand. Finally, she said, "Ok, I'm a little nervous, so let me say this."  
  
Mark watched as she moved tensely about the room. 'She really is cute when she's nervous,' he couldn't help but admit to himself.  
  
Finally turning to address him, Elizabeth stopped her movement and standing beside the table, she admitted, "Mark, I have been thinking about this all day, and I practiced what I was going to say to you, but right now I don't know where to begin."  
  
"Well, just begin at the beginning," Mark suggested.  
  
A rueful laugh escaped her lips. Where exactly was the beginning? She considered her words a moment longer before she spoke. "This definitely was not what I had expected from our first year of marriage. Something changed us, Mark. I don't know if it was Ella or the wedding, but something definitely happened," Elizabeth started. "Maybe the events of last year just pushed us quickly into something we were unsure of. Maybe we thought we were ready to tackle all of this at once, but really we weren't. I don't know. But I do know that when Rachel came to live with us, it became too much for me to handle. It was hard enough trying to work and take care of Ella, but then there was this extra person in the house who constantly felt it necessary to point out all of my shortcomings," Elizabeth admitted, shaking her head. "I shouldn't have let that get to me, Mark, but I did. I needed someone to talk to. . .to comfort me, and I wanted that to be you, but most of the time, you felt that it was necessary to comfort Rachel," she paused. "I don't begrudge you that, Mark, honestly I don't," Elizabeth tried to make this clear before continuing. "She's your daughter, and you need to help her, but I guess it just hurt. And then, well, then all of this happened with Ella."  
  
Elizabeth paused momentarily, closing her eyes. Moving to the other side of the table, she took a seat beside Mark, facing him. Looking into his eyes, she sighed. When she saw that he had opened his mouth to speak, she held her hand up to halt him. "Please, Mark. Just let me finish." Mark relented, sitting back further in his chair. Bending down and resting her elbows on her legs, she said, "I never thought that I made any real demands on you, Mark, and the one time I asked you to put your family first, you couldn't do it. You wouldn't send Rachel away. It was like you had to prove your love to her." Elizabeth paused, but then, her voice taking on a harsher tone, she said, "But what about me, Mark? What about Ella? You never tried to prove your love to us. I tried and tried not to blame you for what happened, but in the end, I still did. I couldn't help it. You seem so disconnected from us, or maybe it's me. I don't know, and I can't figure it out."  
  
Shaking his head, Mark softly said, "I thought you knew. I never thought I needed to prove my love to you. With Rachel it's different. I don't know if she ever knew I love her. I still don't."  
  
Elizabeth looked up from the floor and met his gaze. "And that's what I finally realized, Mark. I realized that just like Ella, Rachel is your daughter. I tried to imagine what it would be like if the tables were turned. What if Ella had been the one to bring drugs into out home? I would like to believe that I would try to protect her, too. So, I finally made myself believe that you were just being a good father for Rachel, but then I got so angry because you weren't being a good father for Ella."  
  
"You wouldn't let me be a good father, Elizabeth," Mark spat angrily.  
  
"You didn't come to her doctor's appointments, Mark," Elizabeth angrily retorted. Mark sighed. If there was any chance of them recovering from this blow to their marriage, he knew he had to tell her everything. He had to explain why he hadn't been there. "Why, Mark? Why weren't you there? And please don't tell me that 'something came up'."  
  
Mark sat silently. "I bit my tongue, Elizabeth," he finally answered.  
  
Elizabeth was livid. "You bit your tongue?" She questioned furiously. Chuckling contritely, she said, "Now I've heard it all."  
  
"Listen to me a minute, Elizabeth," Mark requested hastily. "You had your turn, now let me explain." He paused as he watched her sit up in her chair, a defiant look on her face. "The day you told Rachel to leave our house, she came down to the ER. While we were talking, I bit my tongue. I know it may sound silly, but Susan looked at it, and when she asked me to stick my tongue straight out, it deviated to the right."  
  
Elizabeth looked at him questioningly, but then asked, "Dysfunction of the right hypoglossal nerve?"  
  
Mark smiled, "That's exactly what Susan said, but I was sure that it was recurrence."  
  
"Well, did you see Dr. Burke?" Elizabeth asked, anxiously.  
  
"Yes, but I saw Dr. Messaria here at County first, though," Mark admonished. "That's where I was the day of Ella's appointment, Elizabeth."  
  
Elizabeth just sat in silence, watching him. She could tell that he was afraid. Not just of the recurrence of a brain tumor, but of something else. She finally realized that he was afraid he was going to lose her and Ella as well. It was the first time in the past month that she had actually considered his feelings toward all of this. Just by looking into his eyes she could see the love that he held for her and their daughter. "Why didn't you tell me, Mark?" She asked, quietly.  
  
"Bad timing, I guess," he responded.  
  
Elizabeth just looked at him and then asked, "Well, what did Dr. Burke say?"  
  
"A side effect of the radiation," Mark said bluntly. "Dr. Burke assured me that he saw no signs of tumor regrowth, but that it was most likely radiation necrosis." He paused before admitting, "I didn't want to tell you because I didn't want to put you through all of that again. I didn't expect you to come back and take care of me if I did have another brain tumor, so I decided it would be best to just keep it to myself."  
  
"So instead, you let me believe that you didn't care about our daughter, Mark," Elizabeth stated. "You should have just told me instead of allowing me to make up what I considered to be the truth."  
  
"I know," Mark admitted. "But you wouldn't even talk to me, Elizabeth. How was I supposed to tell you?"  
  
Elizabeth stopped. She needed to stop blaming him for all of this. If this was his fault, then it was just as much hers as well. "I'm sorry, Mark. I need to stop blaming you," she admitted.  
  
"You have every right to be angry with me, Elizabeth," Mark started. "But I don't want it to end like this. Not with you hating me."  
  
Elizabeth considered his words, and then said, "I don't hate you, Mark. I'm just trying to protect Ella."  
  
Mark sighed. What was it going to take for them to move past this? Letting his anger get the better of him, he sarcastically asked, "Are you really protecting her, Elizabeth, or are you just trying to avoid me?"  
  
There was the rub. That was what she had been trying to figure out as well. "In the beginning, I admit that I was trying to avoid you. Because I blamed you, Mark," Elizabeth said as she fumbled with the pieces to one of Ella's puzzles that sat on the table. "But, not anymore. I don't have the strength or the courage to do it anymore."  
  
"To do what anymore, Elizabeth?" Mark asked, trying to understand.  
  
She sighed hastily, and then irritably replied, "To keep up this façade, Mark. To try to pretend that I'm not miserable inside. To. . .to try to profess that I don't. . ." She paused, knowing that if she continued this line of disclosure, then there would be no turning back. Finally relenting, she admitted, ". . .that I don't love you anymore."  
  
She lowered her head, looking at his shoes. Reaching over to her and forcing her chin upward, "And I love you, Elizabeth."  
  
Elizabeth closed her eyes briefly, trying to keep her emotions in check. "But is that enough?" She asked hesitantly.  
  
Mark cautiously moved his chair closer to her until their knees were touching as they faced each other. Taking her hands into his, he said, "No, Elizabeth. It's not enough. But, it is a start. We have a lot to talk about. A lot to work out, but you staying here isn't going to solve anything." He searched her face for any reaction before requesting, "Come home with me, Elizabeth. I want to make this work."  
  
A lone tear made it's way down her cheek as she smiled feebly. Pondering his admonition, she studied his face. Every facet she found there proved his sincerity. Finally, she said, "I want this to work, too."  
  
"Does that mean you'll come home?" He asked anxiously.  
  
A few more tears escaped her visibly tired eyes, and he reached up to brush them away. His hand lingered a moment on her cheek, and she covered it with her own, saying, "Yes, Mark. I want to come home."  
  
In that instant, he was too happy and excited to contain his actions any longer, and quickly leaning his head toward her, he captured her lips with his. Chuckling through her tears and into his mouth, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him to her. After deepening the kiss, he reluctantly pulled away from her, and smiling, he said, "I'm sorry. I just couldn't help myself."  
  
She smiled back at him and wiped away her tears. "Trust me, you don't need to apologize," Elizabeth said, but then paused before saying, "I want to get through this, Mark. I don't want to hide from you any longer, and I don't want to be afraid."  
  
"We're going to have to work through things, and it may take a lot, but we can do it. I'm sure of it," Mark said as he placed his hands over hers as they rested on her thighs.  
  
"I guess I just needed to hear that, Mark," Elizabeth admitted.  
  
"I'll say it as often as you need," Mark said, smiling. "So, are you ready to get out of here?"  
  
"Mark!" Elizabeth scolded playfully. "It is almost 1:30 in the morning. Ella's sleeping, and I don't want to wake her."  
  
"I guess you're right. Just promise me that you won't change your mind between now and tomorrow morning and end up deciding not to come home with me," Mark said jokingly, but his words contained serious undertones.  
  
She smiled again, and then said, "I promise, Mark. I don't think I would last one more night in this cramped little room, anyway."  
  
"It's not so bad," Mark said as he looked around the room.  
  
"Yeah, maybe for a night or two, but not four weeks," Elizabeth admitted.  
  
"I guess," Mark said. "So, is there anything we could do to celebrate your last night here?" He asked, raising his eyebrows suggestively.  
  
"You are insatiable, Mark Greene," Elizabeth chuckled as her lips met his.  
  
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Elizabeth was ripped from her reverie by the blood-curdling scream of her daughter. "MOMMY!!" Ella yelled. "MOMMY!!"  
  
Elizabeth ran from the kitchen anxiously searching for her children. She was relieved to see Matthew playing happily with his blocks and stuffed animals, safe behind the mesh of the playpen's walls, just as she had left him. Quickly picking him up, she yelled, "Ella!! Where are you?"  
  
"MOMMY!" Came another frightened scream.  
  
This time, Elizabeth knew exactly where she was. Dashing toward the bathroom, she was shocked to see Ella exit, her hands and shirt covered in bright red blood. "Ella! What happened?" Elizabeth asked, alarm evident in her voice as she knelt down on the floor in front of her daughter in order to survey her body for the source of the violent flow of blood.  
  
"She told me not to tell, mommy," Ella said.  
  
"Who, Ella? Who?" Elizabeth asked when she determined no place on Ella's body to be the font of the bleeding.  
  
"Rachel, mommy," Ella said. "She's in the bathroom."  
  
Rushing into the bathroom, Elizabeth gasped and froze in shock as a huge lump developed in her throat. She had seen more blood in her life than most people should ever have to, but the site before her stunned her mind and body, leaving her paralyzed with fear. Finally recovering, she called, "Rachel?" Upon closer inspection of the room and it occupants, Elizabeth saw Rachel seated on the floor, her back against the wall and her arms and legs covered with blood.  
  
"Elizabeth, I. . ." Rachel started, but then started to cry. As her body shook, the razor blade she held in her right hand fell to the tile floor with a clink. Elizabeth, who still held Matthew in her arms couldn't make her brain tell her what she needed to do, but was jolted from her trance when she heard that slight sound. Gathering her senses, she picked up the blade and then hustled back into the living room where she placed Matthew in his playpen. Hurrying to the bathroom, she quickly grabbed all the towels from their racks and tried desperately to assess all of Rachel's wounds. "What have you done, Rachel?" Elizabeth asked rhetorically, not expecting her to answer.  
  
Through her tears, Rachel tried to speak, saying, "It's my. . .fault, Elizabeth. I. . .I. . .I hurt Ella. . .it's. . .it's all my fault. You. . .you and daddy. . .you are. . .always. . .fighting. . .and. . .it's my. . .fault." She tried to speak again, but all the color that was left in her face soon drained as her body went limp.  
  
"Rachel!" Elizabeth yelled, trying to revive her. Elizabeth gently moved Rachel to lie down on the floor, propping her legs up on the edge of the bathtub to try to keep the blood flowing throughout her body. Rubbing her sternum with her fist, Rachel still did not respond. Elizabeth hastily wrapped the towels around the wounds that she could see and felt for a pulse. Feeling how thready it was, Elizabeth yelled for Ella who was standing in the doorway. "Ella! Get mommy the phone!" Ella quickly rushed out of the room and was back momentarily, phone in hand. "Ok, now, I need you to dial 911, just like we practiced."  
  
"OK, mommy," Ella said as she turned on the phone to dial.  
  
After Elizabeth heard Ella give the 911 dispatcher their address, she took the phone from her, saying, "Now listen, sweetheart. I know this is scary, but I need you to hold Rachel's arm up just like I am and squeeze it as hard as you can, ok?"  
  
Ella just nodded as she did as her mother told her to. Elizabeth did not leave Ella's side, but remained kneeling on the floor, providing pressure to Rachel's other arm as she spoke to the person on the other end of the phone. After she had described the situation, Elizabeth hung up the phone and took over, relieving Ella of the duty she never should have been asked to do.  
  
"What happened, mommy?" Ella asked innocently.  
  
Elizabeth just looked at her. How was she supposed to explain this one to her? All she finally said was, "Rachel's very sick, sweetie."  
  
"But why, mommy?" Ella asked.  
  
"I'm not sure right now, Ella," Elizabeth snapped, momentarily losing her patience. When she realized that she had yelled at the innocent little girl, she gently said, "Ella, I need you to dial 555-1857, ok."  
  
"Who is that, mommy?" Ella asked.  
  
"It's our neighbors Larry and Sylvia," Elizabeth explained. They had grown close to the elderly couple, and they had, on occasion, babysat for Ella and Matthew. Turning back to Rachel, she tried desperately to get the bleeding to stop, but it just seemed to gush out more and more. "Come on, Rach." Rachel still didn't answer; her lifeless body slumped against the pristine whiteness of the bathroom tiles. Taking the telephone and balancing it between her chin and shoulder, Elizabeth spoke to them as she continued to apply pressure to Rachel's wrists. When Larry and Sylvia agreed to come to the house to look after Ella and Matthew, Elizabeth hung up the telephone, but then swiftly dialed the familiar number of County General ER. When a voice on the other end answered, Elizabeth demanded, "I need to speak to Dr. Greene!"  
  
"Dr. Corday? It's Abby. Is everything all right?" Abby asked, noticing the fear and anxiety that was evident in Elizabeth's voice.  
  
"No, Abby! Is Mark around?" Elizabeth asked, bluntly.  
  
"No, I'm sorry. Can I give him a message for you?" Abby asked.  
  
"Please just tell him that. . ." Elizabeth paused. She didn't know what to say. Realizing that this was definitely not something a parent would want broadcasted about their child, she contemplated hanging up and making sure the paramedics took Rachel to Mercy instead of County. Finally relenting, as she realized Rachel would receive the best care at County, she finished by saying, "Just tell him that I'm on my way in with his daughter."  
  
"Well, what should we be prepared for, Elizabeth?" Abby asked, trying to keep Elizabeth on the telephone.  
  
Elizabeth nervously squeezed her temples with one hand as she tried desperately to think like a doctor and not a mother. Finally speaking, she said, "Just be prepared for the worst." With that, the line went dead as Elizabeth heard the paramedics at the door. Dropping the phone to the floor, Elizabeth asked Ella to run into the living room to answer the door. As the paramedics rushed into the house with the stretcher, Larry and Sylvia came up the front steps behind them.  
  
Once the paramedics took over caring for the lifeless Rachel, Elizabeth went into the living room to explain the situation to her neighbors. "Thanks so much for coming on such short notice," she said. "And, I hate to ask, but Ella's a mess. Do you think you could give her a bath upstairs in the master bathroom?"  
  
"It's not a problem, Dr. Corday," Sylvia said. "We'll take care of everything."  
  
Kneeling down to Ella who was still covered with her sister's blood, Elizabeth said, "Thank you for being a big girl and helping me today. Now, I need you to stay here and be a good girl, ok?"  
  
Ella was too scared to protest anything her mother said and simply replied, "Ok, mommy. I'll just stay here and watch Matthew."  
  
Elizabeth smiled. Ella seemed to have matured by years just over the past two hours. Kissing her cheek, Elizabeth said, "That's my girl." Just then, the paramedics rushed back through the living room carrying Rachel's limp form. Standing, Elizabeth kissed Matthew who stood in his playpen and then raced out the door.  
  
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
"Dr. Greene!" Abby shouted when she saw Mark looking over a patient's film in Radiology. "Dr. Corday and the paramedics are on their way in with your daughter."  
  
"What?" Mark asked, quickly looking from the film to Abby, a sense of deja vous overwhelming him.  
  
"Dr. Corday called the ER a few minutes ago. She didn't say exactly what happened, but she. . ." Abby didn't know how to finish. ". . .she told me to be prepared for the worst."  
  
"Did she tell you what happened to Ella?" Mark asked, as they rushed out the door and into the hallway.  
  
Abby just shook her head.  
  
"Is she awake?" Mark asked, anxiously.  
  
"She didn't say," Abby said.  
  
"Elizabeth didn't tell you anything else?" Mark asked as they made their way onto the elevator.  
  
"No, Dr. Greene. I'm sorry. I don't know anything else," Abby said apologetically.  
  
When the elevator opened in the ER, Abby and Mark both rushed around the corner, searching for any sign of Elizabeth or Ella. "Where are they?" Mark yelled to anyone who would listen. Just then, he saw Elizabeth slowly walking toward him. He was startled and horrified all at the same time when he saw her. Looking from her face to the clothing she wore, he wanted to just weep for their condition. The amount of blood contained on her white blouse and jeans was beyond belief. "Elizabeth?" He shouted as he ran toward her.  
  
She didn't look up when he approached her, but inaudibly said, "I need to sit down," feeling that she was about to faint as she awkwardly took a seat in the middle of the ER floor, her back against the admit desk.  
  
"Elizabeth?" He said, more gently as he crouched down beside her.  
  
When she finally looked up at him, he desperately feared the agonizing look on her face. "What have we done?" Elizabeth finally asked as she looked directly into his eyes. He could only remember seeing that staggered look from her once before. It was the same look she had worn when he saw her for the first time after Lucy had died under her care. The same look she had worn upon returning to her apartment early the next morning when her mother had insisted on her fixing breakfast. He knew that whatever had transpired at their house earlier that day was horrendous, life changing, appalling. She hadn't even looked this shocked on that fateful day nearly four years ago when he found her in Trauma I with their nine-month-old baby girl. She remained silent just staring blankly at him.  
  
She was scaring him. "Elizabeth! Please talk to me," he begged, squeezing her upper arms with his hands. "Where is she?"  
  
Elizabeth remained silent a while longer before saying, "They. . .they took her right up to the OR. There wasn't anything that could be done down here." She wasn't crying, she wasn't even moving, and Mark was quickly becoming frantic. As Mark tried to comprehend the meaning of her words, Elizabeth remained sitting like a statue on the floor.  
  
"What happened?" Mark questioned, needing to know what had happened to his little girl.  
  
Elizabeth sighed as she closed her eyes. When she finally opened them, tears were brimming them as she quietly said, "She was in the bathroom, Mark. There was so much blood. I tried to get it to stop, but. . ." Elizabeth's words were so disconnected, she left Mark confused.  
  
"Why was she bleeding?" Mark asked, his voice rising slightly.  
  
"Because she cut herself, Mark. Because she cut the hell out of her wrists," Elizabeth shouted as the events of the day became too much for her to endure.  
  
"What?" Mark asked, disbelieving. "She slit her wrists? With what?"  
  
"A razor blade, Mark," Elizabeth responded dryly.  
  
"How did she get it, Elizabeth? Weren't you watching her?" Mark asked, accusingly.  
  
Elizabeth stared at him confused and then replied, "Watching her? She's almost eighteen years old, Mark. She hardly needs a chaperone."  
  
"What?" Mark asked, now thoroughly confused.  
  
Finally realizing that Mark assumed it was Ella she had been talking about, Elizabeth finally said, "Rachel, Mark. I'm talking about Rachel."  
  
Somehow, Mark was temporarily relieved that they weren't talking about his precious little Ella, but at the same time, his heart sank even further as he realized they were still talking about one of his daughters. One of his children. His own flesh and blood. His Rachel. "I have to get up there!" He finally said as he stood, leaving Elizabeth sitting on the floor.  
  
Realizing what he had said, Elizabeth quickly stood and hurried after him. "Mark!" She called. "Please don't."  
  
"She's my daughter, Elizabeth," Mark yelled as he moved further away from her and closer to the elevator doors.  
  
"I realize that, Mark, but trust me. You don't need to see her like this," Elizabeth tried to explain.  
  
Mark just looked back at her as he continued down the hall. "I'm a doctor, Elizabeth. I've seen it before," he commented. "I'll be fine."  
  
"No, Mark! You have NEVER seen this before," Elizabeth said as she grabbed his arm to stop him. "Look at me, Mark," Elizabeth insisted as she motioned toward the bloodstains on her clothing. "This isn't the blood of some random patient. This is the blood of someone you know. The blood of your daughter."  
  
"And that's why I need to help her," Mark rationalized as he stepped onto the elevator.  
  
Elizabeth followed closely behind. There was no way she was going to let him see Rachel like this. The site had been too much for her, and she wasn't truly her mother. "Please, Mark," Elizabeth insisted as they rode the elevator up to the OR. "Please just listen to me. Please."  
  
When the elevator doors opened, Mark was stunned by what he saw. From the elevator all the way to the surgical suite, there was a trail of bright red blood covering the floor and some had even splattered onto the walls. As he became mesmerized by the janitor who was now cleaning up the mess, tears formed in his eyes. "Oh, God," he said. "This can't be happening."  
  
Elizabeth stepped closer to him as he stood in the middle of the hallway. Wrapping her arm around his waist when she saw his steps stagger a bit, she led him toward her office. Reaching her office, Mark dejectedly threw himself onto the couch. Leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, he held his head in his hands. "There really isn't anything I can do, is there?" He questioned, rhetorically.  
  
Elizabeth watched him for a long while. Crossing the room to sit beside him, she rubbed his back, trying unsuccessfully to calm him. "No, Mark. I'm sorry," she finally replied. "There isn't."  
  
Looking over to her, he shook his head. "Did she say anything to you, or was she unconscious when you found her?" He asked, hesitantly.  
  
"She was conscious when I, well when Ella found her," Elizabeth stated.  
  
"Ella found her?" Mark asked, appalled by the knowledge that their four-year-old daughter had been subjected to that.  
  
"Yes. She was terrified and came to get me. When I got into the bathroom, Rachel was on the floor with the razor blade in her hand. She spoke briefly to me before she passed out. She thinks that everything that has happened lately is her fault. That Ella is dyslexic and that you and I. . .that we have been arguing so much lately. That it's her fault," Elizabeth stated, trying not to upset Mark any further than what he was already. "After that, she blacked out."  
  
"Why would she do this, Elizabeth? I don't understand. She's been doing so well. Applying to college, playing soccer. I never thought something like this could happen." Mark said, trying to make some sense out of all of this.  
  
Elizabeth hesitated. She didn't know the answer to his question. At the risk of sounding hardhearted, she tried to rationalize the situation, saying, "It's likely that she thought that since she couldn't control everything that has been happening in the house, then this. . .this was something she could control. It's my fault, Mark. My actions toward her yesterday. . ."  
  
"I just can't believe this is happening," Mark interrupted as his face twisted in fear and a tear slipped down his face. Leaning over to embrace him, Elizabeth held his body as his tears freely fell.  
  
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Two hours later, after Elizabeth had showered in the locker room and changed into a pair of familiar blue scrubs, she and Mark sat quietly in her office; her seated behind her desk talking on the telephone and him uneasily reclining on the couch, listening intently to her conversation.   
  
"It's going to be all right, sweetheart. Now, do what Sylvia asked and put your pajamas on. It's almost time for bed," Elizabeth instructed, looking down at her watch that still held smudges of Rachel's blood, even after she had tried to clean it. After a moment, she gently said, "I love you, too, Ella." Hanging up the telephone, Elizabeth sighed.  
  
"How is she?" Mark questioned, moving from his lounging position to begin pacing the room.  
  
Elizabeth considered his question before saying, "She's confused and upset, Mark. She witnessed a lot today. A lot that she doesn't understand." Rubbing her forehead with her hand, she continued, "I feel like I should go get her and try to explain everything, but I don't have any idea where I'd begin."  
  
Mark watched her momentarily before saying, "I'm sorry, Elizabeth."  
  
Confused by his apology, Elizabeth asked, "For what?"  
  
"For all of this. For earlier today," Mark remarked. "I'm sorry," he said again.  
  
"Really, Mark. We don't have to talk about that now. You need to stay focused on Rachel," Elizabeth said, shaking her head as she stood from her chair and moved to lean against the front of her desk. "Besides, I should be the one to apologize. I was way out of line with Ella. You were only trying to allow her some fun."  
  
"True," he interrupted with a weak smile, "You were out of line, but I shouldn't have said what I did. I was just angry and. . ."  
  
"But you were right, Mark. I accused you of things that weren't even sensible, and you. . .well, you spoke the truth," Elizabeth replied, hastily interrupting him. Hesitating a moment before continuing, she said, "I did give up on us four years ago."  
  
"But, we mended those wounds a long time ago, and I should never have brought it up again," Mark said, shaking his head. "It was completely unfounded and uncalled for."  
  
Elizabeth smiled feebly. "Not completely unfounded," she remarked deliberately. "Pressing Ella with this isn't going to help her. It could do nothing but make things worse. You're right. She deserves the chance to be a child, and I wasn't even considering that. I'm so sorry for insinuating that you didn't want to help her."  
  
"I know. It's all right," Mark nodded in response before sighing heavily and sitting back down on the couch. She moved to sit beside him one hand resting on his leg as the other gently rubbed his back.   
  
He took off his glasses to rub his tired eyes. They sat in silence a moment longer before he quietly said, "She has to be all right, Elizabeth. I need her to be all right."   
  
"She will be," Elizabeth tried to assure him, hugging him tighter to her.   
  
"You don't know that, do you?" Mark asked a moment later as he rested his head on her shoulder.   
  
Elizabeth only shook her head when he pulled back to look into her eyes. "I guess I don't, Mark," she replied feebly. "This is my fault. I should have talked to her last night."  
  
"You had no way of knowing," he began. "She even asked me if I thought she should talk to you. I told her it might be best to wait. Neither of us knew something like this would happen," he sighed. A moment later, he stood again and crossed the room, "God, I wish they would come tell us something. It's been forever," he spat.   
  
"I told Donald that we'd be in my office. He knows where to find us, Mark. Unless you'd like me to. . .to go check," she offered hesitantly.  
  
Mark watched her momentarily, considering this option, before saying, "No, I couldn't ask you to do that," he said. "You've already done enough already."  
  
"Really, Mark, if you'd like me to go. . ." Elizabeth started, but then suddenly looked up toward the door of her office when she heard a slight nock from behind it. Glancing nervously over at Mark, she knew that his anxious expression mirrored her own. Standing to answer the door, she held Mark's hand as he walked with her. 


End file.
